To Topple the Pillars of Heaven
by Lord-Mhoram
Summary: When tragedy strikes Draco Malfoy during the happiest summer of his life, hints of the existence of a powerful ancient artifact emerge. With the Light and Dark engaged in a war to extinction, will Draco and Harry survive the Malfoy legacy?
1. Good-Bye Yellow Brick Road

TO TOPPLE THE PILLARS OF HEAVEN

AUTHOR: LORD-MHORAM

AUTHOR EMAIL: Kheldon71@cox-internet.com

CATEGORY: HARRY POTTER FANFIC: ROMANCE, ANGST, SLASH

KEYWORDS: HARRY, DRACO, SLASH

SPOILERS: ALL BOOKS

RATING: R

SUMMARY: When tragedy strikes Draco Malfoy during the happiest summer of his life, hints of the existence of a storied, lethal artifact emerge. With the Light and Dark engaged in a war to extinction, will Draco and Harry survive the Malfoy legacy? 

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Honest.

A/N: Many thanks to Debby for running this one through the mill. Please note this story contains semi-graphic descriptions of adult male homosexual contact. 

Chapter 1/?

"Good-bye Yellow Brick Road"

Arthur Weasley stood by the hedge as the flames rose into the sky. The mansion was burning, but the Ministry's Magic Emergency Team was bringing the conflagration under control. Mad-Eye Moody grunted noncommittally, and together they raised the charms that would protect them from toxins and heat. "Has Severus arrived?" asked Weasley as they gingerly stepped over the wreckage of the front portico, which had been hurled outward. "Yes, he's talking to some of the younger Aurors, giving them some pointers about what to stay away from. This kind of ruddy mess isn't covered in school books, for sure. Wretched business." Snape approached from the direction of the almost intact West Grounds. Wordlessly he gestured to a grimy, damaged yellow path leading to West Entrance. The three men entered the ruins. 

Three hours earlier:

Alarms were ringing throughout the whole of Malfoy Manor. The Manor itself groaned under the terrible pressure trying to insinuate itself inside. The lord of the estate, Lucius Malfoy, stood whip-thin and regal before a terrified assemblage of house elves. They were stationed around a tremendous pile of what only could be called loot. "Albus Dumbledore!" he shouted. "Take this to Dumbledore! And you, present this to him yourself!" He threw a small crystal globe at a quaking elf, who caught the shiny trinket. With a loud pop the house elves and the mound of objects Apparated away. An Aconite Eagle was waiting impatiently for Lucius, who was placing another tiny crystal in a pouch. After fastening the pouch to the eagle's leg, Lucius commanded, "Take this to Draco." The eagle, flying like the north wind, circled one time around the high battlement, called an eerie cry, and shot towards the horizon. 

The woman sitting on the divan in the middle of the room levered her long legs underneath her and stood by her husband. "So it's done, " Narcissa said. "Yes," he said. "I did it; it's done." She smiled wanly. "Just us, first time in years...no house elves, no treasure, nobody but us." Lucius grinned ferally.

Suddenly the Portal Keeper's voice began calling through the cavernous mansion. "Warning! The Apparation shield has failed! Multiple incursions are in progress, Entrance Hall, East Wing, and Main Dungeons. Warning!" The voice stopped abruptly as Lucius gestured with his wand. His wife drew near to his side, releasing her own wand from the folds of her cloak. Together they looked predatory, all the more so for being trapped. However, the danger of their situation only underscored their lethality. Moving together to the Grand Staircase, Lucius gave his wife a sidelong glance, and asked, "Narcissa, might I invite you to one last dance?" She laughed, a small sound amidst the terrible noises from below, and replied, "Lucius, I'd be delighted." As they began to descend the Grand Staircase, Lucius raised his wand and cried with all his might, "House! Defend! Release the Banes!"

The Manor detonated in light and darkness, but chaos reigned over all.

The warm summer night was alive with energy and possibility for the two young men holding hands in the lane. They seemed the happiest of pairs. In fact, they were, which was altogether surprising. One young man was the Boy Who Lived, born enemy of Lord Voldemort; the other, Draco Malfoy, scion to a wealthy Great House known for its sworn support of the Dark Lord. However, the war seemed far off, and of much greater immediate importance to them was the relationship they had created with one another. It had started over a year ago, as mere tolerance of one another's existence, then progressed to deeper affection, and finally love. Raging, hormonally flavored love, perhaps, but the flesh and bones of a deeper commitment were present. No one had been more surprised to make such a discovery of their bond's strength and intensity than they. 

With a graceful leap the silver-haired Draco hopped on the stoop and muttered "Alohomora" to the locked door. Taking Harry's hand, he pulled him laughing into the entrance hall of their borrowed flat. 

"I had no idea Snape could sing!" exclaimed Harry. 

"Well, it wasn't really singing, was it now? More like an intention gone horribly awry," smirked Draco. 

"Can't believe you're saying such things about your favorite professor, Draco!"

"I never said he could sing."

"Thank God he got owled before his next set."

"But who gets owled in the middle of an engagement party? He left fast enough"

"And why did you pull me away home so soon? Not that I think Ron and Hermione noticed too much. Honestly Draco! The dessert cart hadn't even come around yet."

The pale boy looked amused. "Oh, well. I brought dessert home with me."

"Huh?" said Harry.

"This..." murmured Draco, who wrapped one arm around Harry's waist while moving the other to cradle Harry's head. Draco leaned Harry gently back against the wall and brushed his lips to Harry's. Looking into the piercing viridian eyes, blazing now with need and hunger and oh yes, love, Draco deepened the kiss. Their eyes closed as they surrendered to the power of the moment, flesh liquid as mercury, each tasting the other's aching want. Harry's arms softly overlaid Draco's as they moved together, touching, stroking soft flesh.

With difficulty Draco broke the kiss to whisper huskily into Harry's ear, "Do you want more, Gryffindor-boy? I might give you something nice, if you asked properly, with some manners"

Harry pushed Draco back an inch. 

"What does a Slytherin care if manners are involved, as long as someone's offering it up?"

"For me it matters," Draco said, mouth in a half moue, reminiscent of his dormant smirk. 

"Oh please, My Lord Draco, ravish me," Harry deadpanned, unable to keep the up the pretense. Real desire was becoming insistent. Draco smiled and planted a small kiss on Harry's forehead. "Good enough. Come along, commoner." Draco took Harry's hand and pulled him to the bedroom. As soon as they crossed the threshold, Harry grabbed Draco's shoulders and spun him hard, falling with him on their bed. Levering his body onto Draco, Harry fastened his mouth down to his lover's, parted his lips and gained entrance to the tender sanctuary within. At the kiss's conclusion, both were agreed. Harry climbed on the bed and began kicking off his remaining clothes, while Draco stood and pulled his t-shirt off. 

"Hey Drake...do you think we'll ever do it?"

"Yes Harry, I hope we do, I'm getting undressed here, all right?"

"No, not that...I mean..err, that is, if things are still good, uhm...."

"Potter! You're making me old with dramatic pauses! Spit it out!"

"Draco, do you think we'll get married?"

"Oh sure."

"No, wanker, I mean to each other."

"Yes, ok, I'll give you the ring I got Pansy two years ago."

Poor Harry's face fell down to a spot roughly under the floorboards. "I don't want anything that's touched Pansy," he said softly. 

"Oh Jesus, Harry! I was joking! I'd get you a new ring."

"Still not what I meant, Malfoy," growled Harry, drawing his face into a fairly sexy pout.

Draco approached the bedside. "Potter...Harry--you are the most unexpected event of my life. All I want to do is be with you, forever. If anyone breaks my heart, I want it to be you." He paused, then carefully clasped his hands in Harry's tangled hair. Giving the raven-haired young man a look that hinted of distant ice, he whispered, "Don't break my heart. I'm a vicious bastard when wounded."

"You must stay wounded something chronic," Harry tried to intone sotto voce, only to catch a pillow to his head. 

"Listen to me, Harry! You asked! Does "wedding" mean we'll get married and Sirius will give you away and the Weasel will be your best man? Is Granger going to toss flowers down the aisle? I don't know Harry! Right now I just want you and me. Not you in the middle of your friends, or me following my father off to kiss Voldemort's arse. I want inside you, Harry. Not like that! Well yes, like that, quite often. 'Till you can't walk. Oh...fuck."

"What, Drake?" Harry was leaning on his elbow, fascinated. 

"Your bloody serious interrogation has made me go soft."

"Never," murmured Harry and pulled Draco down to the bed and under the soft covers. Their mouths met again and communication needing no words began. Harry's hands wandered down Draco's body and stroked the curve of his hip. Draco extended the length of his naked body down onto Harry's slim form. Entwining their legs, they began a slow rhythmic motion, rocking against one another. They often made love like that, bodies only inches apart. "Yes....ok....good...good...please....oh please," moaned Harry, as he clawed Draco's back. "Good? Or very good?" gasped Draco as he moved inside the warmth of Harry's body, his hips driving his cock fully into his lover.

"Mmh-humh," was the extent of Harry's response, as he fastened his mouth onto Draco's neck and nursed the alabaster skin. Harry felt Draco penetrate him; he bit convulsively into his lover's neck, drawing blood. Draco cried out, a sharp sound that might have been Harry's name. The thrusting increased as Harry felt his body dissolve into the will and desire of the man above him. Somewhere deep within Harry's mind a tiny voice noted dispassionately the ease with which Harry surrendered his whole body, his whole self, to a man he had once counted as his enemy. The rest of Harry's mind had harsh words for the voice, which fell, as always, silent. Draco had pushed Harry's hair back and was looking at him, even as his body tortured Harry's with pleasure. Concern, the need to please, even flickers of love could be read in Draco's face. Once these feelings had been alien to him, but now he delighted in experiencing them with the man stretched beneath him. The passion of their joining proved too much for them, and soon they were holding one another in an exhausted post-lovemaking haze.

"Mmmm"

"Wanna doze for a bit, Drake?"

"Just a bit--before next time."

Draco had begun to nuzzle Harry's neck when there came a loud, obviously magically enhanced knocking at the door. "Visare," commanded Harry. The image of Dumbledore appeared at the end of the bed. The old wizard had dispensed with his usual garb, and was wearing a smart traveller's outfit, bizarrely incongruous with his usual appearance. Grabbing his wand, Harry called out "Purafacicum Corpus", cleaning both boys. After a quick struggle into clothes, and an even quicker healing spell on Draco's love-bitten neck, Harry was at the door. 

"Good evening Professor!" Harry exclaimed. 

"Hello, Harry, I trust your evening went well?"

"Yes....ahh, yes, it was a great party," stumbled Harry, praying the old Headmaster didn't see the blush spreading across his face. 

"Your pardon, young Harry, I will need to speak to you in a few moments, but may I have a few words with Mr. Malfoy?"

"Of course sir, he's in the sitting room." The Headmaster went in; Harry caught a few quiet pleasantries between Draco and Dumbledore before the door shut. Harry sat down at the kitchen table, and thumbed over the latest issue of "Vampire Vegetables" that Neville Longbottom had sent him. A feeling of unease grew in his chest. This was no ordinary visit by the Headmaster, not that any visit ever tended to the commonplace. It was just so remarkable to see the Headmaster away from Hogwarts. 

A tension was growing, becoming palpable. The long minutes filled the room with their refusal to pass. Suddenly a strangled shout echoed through the house. Draco exploded through the sitting room door and pushed past Harry. The door to the garden slammed shut. Harry stood up, only to have Dumbledore's hand fall gently on his shoulder. Harry turned and peered into the kindly old man's face.

"I am afraid this has been a very odd evening, with sad consequences for Draco. In a Death Eater assault on Malfoy Mansion this evening, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were killed." Harry's expression went blank at Dumbledore's words. Lucius? Killed by presumed fellow Death Eaters? It defied reason. "Harry, there is much that has to be done. Our Enemy is moving now. Open warfare may be upon us. You and Draco are safe here, for the moment. There is a full Apparation Shield in place and Aurors outside the walls. Do not leave the grounds for any reason. Professor McGonagall will join you here as soon as she can. As to Mr. Malfoy's situation...I'll leave it to him to discuss it with you."

"Draco--" started Harry, but Dumbledore raised his hand and stilled Harry's questions. "We will convene at Hogwarts, Harry, and all that we have gathered by then, will be shared with you. You figure in this...incident....though, alas, I am not certain entirely how. I have other stops this evening, and must be away. Right now the most important instructions I can impart are these: stay inside the grounds, take care of Draco, and do take good care of yourself, dear Harry." Dumbledore walked down the hall, through the door, and was gone, leaving Harry standing in the foyer, mouth agape. 

An explosion suddenly rocked the house. Harry ran to the garden to find several large holes in the rock fence surrounding the lawn. Aurors were streaming through the breaches, wands drawn and battle armor spells shining. Harry waved them off and continued on to the still form sitting on one of the yard benches. Occasionally the silent person would wave a hand and destroy large sections of the thick granite wall. 

"Wandless magic, Draco? I thought you had given that up," said Harry, slightly awed by the amount of damage his lover had done to the area.

"Don't lecture me now. Just don't....and don't look at me that way, Harry," said Draco, his voice tight, barely controlled. 

"What way, Drake?" queried Harry. 

"Pitying. I can't bear this and your damned pity," he hissed. 

"Not pity, Draco. I'm just sad this happened."

Bitter laughter escaped Draco. "You and me."

Harry drew closer to the wounded young man. "Draco, we can face-"

"Don't say it, Potter! We can't face this together. I can't face it myself."

Harry paused. "I won't fight with you tonight, Drake. Maybe tomorrow we can bring down one of the walls, like we did your on last birthday, but not tonight."

Distant lightning threatened the horizon, casting pitiless shadow on Draco's angular face. "Do you know what's fucking funny Potter? I had just been thinking about how happy I was, and how I didn't deserve to be this happy, and look! I didn't deserve it. I was even thinking---thinking--that you were the only family I needed." Draco's voice broke, but no tears fell. The imperious mask of patrician nobility had fallen over his features. He got rigidly to his feet, only to trip and fall over the bench leg. Harry knelt down to Draco's side, trying to keep his shock hidden. He had never seen the former Seeker stumble so casually before. Draco was cursing intently, softly, as Harry helped him to his feet.

Harry put an arm around Draco's shoulders as lightning cracked more closely this time. The wind began to kick hard through the leaves. Draco allowed Harry to bring him into the house and wordlessly accepted assistance with undressing before climbing into bed. Harry got in the wide four-poster and watched as Draco's eyes closed. Draco pulled in on himself and turned away from Harry. After hovering watchfully for perhaps a half-hour, Harry heard a weary voice say his name. "Harry? Please...I need...I can't...be afraid," murmured Draco, almost to himself. Scooting in closer to his boyfriend, Harry laid his hand softly on Draco's shoulder. With speed born of Seeker's muscles and reflexes, Draco turned and buried himself in Harry's chest.

The lightning flared again and again while the wind clawed at the windows. Draco's body trembled as he wept the tears it had taken Harry years to weep, tears that even now traced down Harry's cheeks. Harry embraced Draco, knowing he would fight Hell itself for him. He knew the fight was coming. 

End Chapter One


	2. Morning Came Too Soon

TO TOPPLE THE PILLARS OF HEAVEN

AUTHOR: LORD-MHORAM

AUTHOR EMAIL: Kheldon71@cox-internet.com

CATEGORY: HARRY POTTER FANFIC: ROMANCE, ANGST, SLASH

KEYWORDS: HARRY, DRACO, SLASH

SPOILERS: ALL BOOKS

RATING: R

Chapter Two

__

Morning Came Too Soon

I woke up before morning light. For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was, or even who I was. Total discontinuity. I lay in a huge bed, with a warm, attractive person next to me. His arms were around my waist. On inspection, I noted that these arms belonged to Harry. Harry, whom I loved. How wretched I felt. My head was blocked up from…crying. I had cried in front of Harry. What would he think? It hadn't been a dramatic tear tracing bravely down my cheek. Not a stalwart quiver of my chin. I was rather certain I puled until I got the hiccups. Hiccups. I shook so hard I spilled the glass of water he'd brought me. Not that he stayed dry anyway. My incessant weeping ensured he stayed damp. Merlin help me, I think there was snot. No wonder my family avoids…avoided open displays of grief. It was all self-preservation from swollen eyes, a ragged head, and a naked feeling that was not at all sensual. Father would have been so displeased with my lack of control, if he hadn't been so busy being dead. Father and Mother were dead. I moaned as the memory of the worst shock of my life tore into my waking mind. "Hey Drake. Hush, I'm here. Sleep." It was good advice, Harry. I wanted to escape. I didn't want to know what this meant anymore. I wanted to die, and here, in the arms of the only person alive who loved me,was a good place. I wrapped my arms around Harry's thin neck, the solace of his body around me, and fell back into tormented sleep. 

He had cried himself out, dead out, only to wake up again, in some half-conscious state, muttering and thrashing. Each time I pulled him back to me and each time he settled. The contact of our skin seemed to reassure him. Incredible. A Malfoy needing reassurance. But that was unfair. A major part of his world had just disintegrated. He made a hoarse noise, painful to hear, that started to scale upwards into a keen, similar to sounds he had made in his really bad moments during the night. I reckon it scared me. I've seen him hurt, and sick, and mending up, but he had never been like this before. Maybe the most terrifying part of the whole business was the way he was letting me hold him, rock him, and comfort him. Not even during sex does Draco Malfoy fully surrender. I sighed and resolved that everything would eventually work itself out. Darkness slipped into the room as the storm renewed itself. Draco's tears trickled down my chest. I kissed his forehead and told him to sleep. He didn't argue. 

When Harry awoke, it was well into mid-morning. Draco remained curled within his arms, which were completely numb. Harry's bladder, however, was not only not numb, it was sending him painfully desperate signals. Harry decided the last item had to be resolved before wetness of another kind entirely descended upon them. Gingerly disengaging his deadened limbs from Draco's weight, he rolled out of bed and padded to the adjoining bathroom. After relieving himself as quietly as he could, he stepped back into the room. His lover had sprawled out in a decidedly undignified manner. In other circumstances, Harry would have leapt on the bed and furiously tickled the Slytherin's nobility away from him. Draco never exactly giggled, but at least he would laugh. As he thought of that rare, bright laughter, Harry's heart sank. How much time would pass before Draco laughed again? "Hey," he called softly to see if the young man was awake. No reply came. 

Crossing the bedroom, Harry went to the kitchen and prepared a small breakfast. After finishing his sausages and toast he quietly gathered clothes for the day and went to the shower on the opposite end of the house. Though small, the bathroom held a beautiful antique shower-tub, enchanted to provide hours of hot, lightly fragranced water. Harry stripped and hopped into the tub, relishing the steam bringing life back into his body. He was so intent on his ablution he failed to hear the door open and soft footsteps approach. 

"Harry?" said Draco, startling the Gryffindor. Harry jumped straight up, sending soap and shampoo bottles flying. Ignoring his boyfriend's mild discomfiture, Draco glared angrily as he climbed into the shower.

"I woke up and you weren't there."

"I just went to fix breakfast."

"I don't care. Wake me up next time!"

Harry put his hand out and pulled Draco closer. Steamy water cascaded over them, making Harry squint even harder to make eye contact. Putting his face nose-to-nose with the Slytherin's, Harry said firmly, "I won't leave you, not in this life, not in the next. But I reserve the right to get up and make breakfast without your permission anytime, right then?"

Draco's glare ratcheted down. "Right," he grumbled, and started to get out of the tub. Harry tightened his grip and pulled him back around, kissing his pale lips, reassuring him.

Harry's hands moved downward and started to pull off Draco's sodden underwear when Draco stopped him. "Harry, please don't, I don't really want to do anything very sexual at the moment. Honestly, I'm not sure I could." Harry nodded in assent. "It's fine, Drake, but as long you're soaked, you should at least let me scrub you." The ghost of a smile passed across Draco's face.

"Well, then, get to it."

Harry pulled Draco's underwear down and tossed them into a wet heap on the floor. He opened a bottle of emollient bodywash and poured it into his hands. He worked the foamy mixture, which smelled of almonds and cherry, into Draco's fine skin. 

Draco, making a face, turned around and said, "That's yours isn't it? It'll clash with my shampoo."

"You can use mine today."

"Aiih! You want me to use what you use? Tangle 'o Plenty? Oh, all right," groused Draco.

Dried, dressed, and anxious, they waited for Professor McGonagall. Draco paced; Harry remained mostly quiet. He knew well how silence could be a friend to a person under stress. On what seemed to be Draco's thousandth circuit of the sitting room, a sharp rapping came at the front door. Harry flung the door wide and peered around, only to have a sharp shove send him flying backwards. A myriad of colors began to take form in the open doorway. The rainbow gained coherence and coalesced into the form of a great eagle. Landroval, the last emissary of House Malfoy had arrived. 

"What is it?" asked Harry, picking himself up and rubbing his sore bottom.

"He's an ambassador of sorts. He's from…my father."

Draco approached the large bird and bowed briefly. The bird cocked its head at him and stretched out its leg. Kneeling down, Draco undid the binding charms and released the small pouch. Upon its opening, a ring and a crystal fell out. Draco's shoulder's bowed. "They're really gone," he sighed. His fingers clutched the crystal so tightly Harry was sure it would be powdered. Draco mastered himself slowly. Turning to Harry, he said, "It's a See-Me; it records whatever you want to communicate." 

"I should give you privacy," said Harry. He turned to go, but Draco held his arm. "No," he said. "Fiat nox," Draco commanded, plunging the room into darkness. Placing the crystal onto the table, he tapped it with his wand, summoning the image of Lucius Malfoy.

"Draco. Your mother and I will be dead by the time you receive this. Do not grieve. This is our choice. We have chosen to die with the honor befitting our rank. I wish I could explain further, but there is no time. The time I thought I would have is far spent. Listen closely, as your survival depends on your understanding me. In my years as a procurator of Dark Objects for Lord Voldemort, there has been one item in particular I have sought. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you a great deal about this object; your mother has utilized an effective memory-obliterating charm on me, in case our plans fail and we are taken. I can tell you, however, that the object is the Crown. I found it in our old home, Draco, and I used it, for it belongs to us. I did many things with it. I saw the Dark Lord's true intent. _I saw his mind. He is not what he seems, not even that! He will fill the world with slaves._ It was never his intention to return to the House System. There will be no rewards for loyal service. There will be slavery, Draco for all, Mud-Blood, HighBorn, all will serve the Dark Lord equally. I have not devoted my life for such equality; I will not be united with the Muggles in abject servitude. No Malfoy has ever suffered such and none will! When the Dark Lord finally discerned that I had obtained such a useful trinket, he demanded it. To assist me in my decision to give up the Crown, he cast _Tempus Fugit Mortalis_ on your mother and me. The course of our lives is now only a few hours."

Lucius' image turned restlessly. "It was a useless action. I had already sent the object, in pieces, far away. The power of the artifact has remained with me, to a degree, such that not even he could resist me when I forcibly Disapparated him. I've reinforced the house protection charms, but soon the Death Eaters will break through the Apparation shields, and I will be unable to prevent them. However, I have sent items to Albus Dumbledore for you and for safekeeping. Make your way to Dumbledore as soon as you can. Find the Crown, Draco. Do with it as you will, but destroy Voldemort. If he gains the Crown, the world will sink beneath oceans of blood. I never intended such." Lucius paused and seemed to gather his thoughts. His expression went distant as he strained to remember the images that eluded him. "Draco. The Crown belongs to the Old House, and can be found there. Our light once shone above all others, on the Pillars, Draco." Lucius came to himself and resumed in an almost normal tone. "Son, your mother and I honor you and your life. The signet of our Line we give you. Farewell."

The image faded. Draco sat on the sofa, spine straight, impassive. He might have been hewn from unfeeling stone, save for the emotion welling in his eyes. He placed his father's ring on his finger; the adjusting charms altering its size. Harry was wiser by far than to attempt to touch his lover at the moment. They both continued to sit. Harry lent what support he could by his presence alone. Finally Draco leaned over and curled up, laying his head in Harry's lap. Harry stroked the long silver hair. The long day wore on. They kept their places, until Harry roused the Slytherin for evening meal, which might as well have been in a sepulchre. The noise of utensils seemed unbearable. In the middle of the silence, Draco mumbled, "I have no bloody clue. I don't know what in the deepest hells he was talking about." 

Bedtime arrived, with no sign of McGonagall. Wordlessly they undressed for bed. Harry had rolled under the covers when Draco briefly, fiercely kissed him. "Thank you," he told the nonplussed Harry. "Sure….for what?" "For letting me alone today," replied Draco softly. Harry said nothing, but took Draco's hand. With uncharacteristic shyness, Draco turned and held him, while tucking his head underneath Harry's. The day of inactivity had tired Harry, and sleep came rapidly. But for Draco, the hours passed long before he drifted away. 

Bright sunlight greeted Harry as he cracked his eyelids to the new day. The storm had ended; blue sky returned with a vengeance. The radiance streaming in through the huge French windows seemed to be trying to allay the recent trauma. Harry turned and looked at Draco, whose head was inclined toward him. With his sensual lips slightly parted, Draco presented an almost overwhelming invitation for a kiss. Harry moved closer, his face nearly on the Slytherin's, when he turned away. "_Pretty low to snog someone without permission, when they're defenseless," _thought Harry. 

As if those thoughts had passed between them, Draco said sleepily, "Am I ugly in the morning, Potter?" "Uh, no, it's just that with all that's happened, I thought--" "You thought it'd be dishonorable to take advantage of me. Let me judge that. So come on, Potter. Take advantage of me." Draco's eyes were still shut, but he had pulled the covers back, revealing his naked body. Harry dropped his head to Draco's face and kissed the parted lips. Just a glancing suggestion of contact passed, while Draco's hands stroked Harry's back. The tip of Harry's tongue arced into the blond man's mouth, touching, teasing, and seeking. Draco tensed; strong hands pulled Harry up to meet the gray gaze. 

"I'm sorry. I don't know what to do, Harry. I don't feel like myself. I just feel…shifted out of place. I don't have a place anymore." 

"Yes, you do," said Harry. "You're Draco Malfoy. Nothing can change that."

"What does it matter, Harry?"

"It matters to me. You're the man I want with me forever."

"Are you sure? How can you know that?"

Consternation filled Harry's voice. "I know what I know, Draco. I know what I feel, what I think, and what I want."

"How can you? You're nineteen. I'm the only person you've had sex with. I'm the only significant relationship you've had. How can you think you've found the right person? How do you know that what you think is love isn't just a passing fondness for shagging me?"

Harry, rigid with fury, pushed away from Draco, but kept his voice measured and steady. "Less than two days ago you said you wanted to be with me forever. You told me not to break your heart. Now, you're asking me asinine, sophomoric questions about how I know I'm right about what I say and what I feel. Well, if you're asking me this because you're unsure about me, I can reassure you. If you're asking because you're upset over your mum and dad, I can accept that. But if you're asking me this as some sort of weird "I need my space" thing, then you can kindly go fuck yourself!" Harry tore out of the bed and stormed from the room. Draco lay there, stunned by Harry's reaction, but more horrified by his own actions. "_Truly a fool, Malfoy_," he thought, and for the second time in as many days, tears fell down his cheeks. 

After dressing, Harry grabbed an apple and went outside. The recent rain had cooled the breeze that tugged at Harry's sleeves. His explosion at Draco ran through his mind. He wandered aimlessly through the garden until he came to one of the huge trees bordering his godfather's property. An impish inspiration suddenly occurred to him. Harry laid his apple down and began to climb the lower tree limbs, his nimble body well adapted to balancing. Years of Quidditch had mostly eradicated any fear of heights he might have had. After calling "a_ccio apple,"_ Harry ate breakfast cradled high above the ground. The gentle swaying of the huge branch relaxed his body, letting him sink into his thoughts. They alternated between anger, fear and guilt; anger, that Draco questioned his love; fear, that perhaps Draco was trying to extricate himself from their relationship, and guilt, for being volatile with a person who had suffered a terrible loss so recently. He had come to no conclusions when a pebble broadsided his rear end. Draco was standing below, looking as innocent as he could.

"Won't you come down and see me, little bird?" he called, leaning against the tree.

"Bugger off," replied Harry, punctuating the refusal by bouncing his apple core off Draco's head.

"Fuck me! Oww! Harry, quit being a bastard!"

"You need to think about what you say, Draco! We're not eleven anymore! Why don't you take responsibility for what you say?"

"You're right. I apologize."

Harry opened his mouth, then shut it again. Making his way down from his perch, he sighed, knowing he had been too harsh. He made the final hop to the ground and stood to face the blond Slytherin.

"Harry, I wanted to tell you…look, I'm afraid, afraid that someday you'll realize you could have done better for yourself. I'm afraid I won't fit in your pretty world. You could have a good person, you know, one that doesn't have to run off to slay the monster. You deserve a normal person who has sane emotions. I don't know what to tell you."

"Humility from you. I fucking doubt it. You're trying to pull a runner, Malfoy. Shit. I trusted you!"

Harry sat down and turned his back to Draco. He plucked at grass, nodding his head as if to himself, trying to keep the angry tears from falling. Draco knelt and took him in his arms, only to be jabbed with sharp elbows. "Get off me, damn it! Don't try to make it fucking right!" shouted Harry, his anger winning out briefly. 

"No, Harry, I won't quit. I want you to forgive me for being stupid."

Harry quit struggling and slumped back against Draco. "What would that matter? I tell you I love you, and I want you, and I believe every piece of trite, sentimental crap that I've dreamed about my whole fucking life. In that damned cupboard I dreamed about it! And you demolish it. Because for about half a second, I thought, 'how do I know I'm right?' You know what my answer is, Drake? I don't know. But I'm willing to be wrong, if it means being with you. It's trite; it's sentimental, and it's all I've got in the whole fucking world."

Draco turned Harry around to face him. The wind was wreaking havoc with Harry's already lost-cause hair, and the sight of it, the simple sight of Harry's face half-caught in the light filled Draco with a shivery feeling that was love, or madness, or both. "I love you, Harry. I've wanted to tell you, but…well, I couldn't." He sighed and shook his head. "I was afraid I'd lose you if I said it aloud, but I never told my parents, and they're gone. We had a saying in my family: 'Hide love away, for if the jealous Gods see it, they will kill it.' I guess I've hidden it too well." Harry started to speak but Draco continued, "I had this game. I'd think 'I love you!' as hard as I could, anytime I saw you, trying to make you feel it, trying to make you hear me." He paused, looking lost and abashed.

Harry took his Draco's hand and kissed the upturned palm. His heart was hammering in his chest as the words he had so wanted to hear resonated in his hearing, in his memory. Gently Harry stroked his palm and fingers. "I love you, too. I know you're afraid. I can't tell you not to fear, because that won't help you. But I'm not a child, Draco. Childhood happened to other people while I was in the cupboard. That's the pretty world I had until I came to Hogwarts. Since then, someone's tried to kill me almost every year. Still look pretty to you? I've not had a normal life, and neither have you. We have some of the same monsters to kill, right? I need you to trust me. I need your trust as much as your love."

Draco nodded and was very still. "Harry, just stay with me. I feel strange….like I'm filled with broken glass. I wasn't close to my parents in the same way as other people are. But now I feel like I'm drifting and useless. I don't know what I have to offer you. But before this happened, I knew I wanted you. I still do. I always will." 

Harry grinned, looking like the young Quidditch champion again. He caught Draco in an open-armed hug, throwing both of them backward to the ground. The warm summer sun shone on the pair lying in the grass. Draco looked up at the cerulean sky, filed with white cloud castles. Again he felt as if his life were teetering between its end and its beginning. His parents were dead, his House destroyed, his identity in grave question. But he was loved, beyond any doubt and beyond any degree to which he had ever felt himself worthy. There was an anchor for him, and a task to complete. He nestled his face in Harry's neck, smelling sweet sweat, and grass, and a little bit of the distant sea. He was kissing Harry's throat when a cat hopped down from the garden wall and pranced regally over to the two men. The cat meowed loudly, as Draco was undoing Harry's shirt. "Go on now. Don't you have anything better to do?" he asked the feline. "Cat?" mumbled Harry into Draco's chest. A long shadow fell over the young men as Minerva McGonagall materialized from the slinky form. 

"Gentlemen, I trust you have finished rolling in the dirt for today?" the tart-tongued instructor asked. Harry and Draco hopped to their feet, dusting themselves off, Harry blushing Weasley-red, Draco grabbing pathetically for dignity. They nodded like the schoolboys they had once been.

"Good. Gather your things, our time is limited and we have to make a stop on our way to Hogwarts,"

Draco took a deep breath and asked McGonagall, "I suppose I'll have to go to the Ministry for questioning soon?"

McGonagall looked a bit wheyish. "No, Draco. The Ministry was destroyed yesterday afternoon. The Central Ministry Office in London was destroyed, as were most of the subsidiary and ancillaries in Britain. Few ranking officers above R4 are still alive. The Ministry as a governing body no longer exists."

Harry took a step forward, almost grabbing the elderly professor. "Percy? Mr. Weasley? Hermione?"

Minerva steeled herself to deliver bad news. She had done it many times in her long life, but it was not a facile task.

"Arthur and Hermione were at the Malfoy estate, continuing their investigations. Percy has been very seriously injured; his survival is in question. Harry, Ronald Weasley was at the Ministry building at the time of the attack. He was brought to St. Mungo's as I was leaving; I do not know the extent of his injuries. St Mungo's is the stop we must make. The Weasleys are asking for you. They have not been made aware that you survived."

Harry's knees went liquid. He was dimly aware of Draco's arm supporting him. As from a great distance he heard Draco ask, "Survived what?" 

Harry willed the roaring in his ears to subside. "Come on, then."

_End Chapter Two_


	3. Nothing Important Happened Today

AUTHOR: Lord_Mhoram

AUTHOR EMAIL: Khel71@yahoo.com

CATEGORY: ROMANCE, ANGST, SLASH

KEYWORDS: HARRY, DRACO, SLASH 

SPOILERS: ALL BOOKS

RATING: R

SUMMARY: When tragedy strikes Draco Malfoy during the happiest summer of his life, hints of the existence of an all-powerful ancient artifact emerge. With the Light and Dark engaged in a war to extinction, will Draco and Harry survive the Malfoy legacy? 

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Honest.

The author wishes to thank Beth for her tireless work as lifegiver to large portions of this fic. 

****

Nothing Important Happened Today

Albus Dumbledore faced an extraordinary set of circumstances. The enemy who had for so long moved silently within the dark had broken forth, in overwhelming numbers. The evolution of the ongoing crisis was a sad, maddening trial. However, Dumbledore had made several difficult decisions that haunted him. His mind played back along the torturous past few hours as he walked to the new meeting hall. Consultation with his staff had been conclusive. Representatives of the Muggle government and the remaining Unspeakables had joined in approving the plan. Still, it was a worried Headmaster who observed the massive alterations to the castle.

He took a deep breath, thought longingly of lemon drops, and stepped into the meeting room. The Order of the Phoenix was gathered, loudly holding forth on the recent chaos. Dumbledore took his position in the middle of the vast U-shaped table and gazed at the old and new faces staring back at him. Without preamble, he began to speak. 

"With this Order's approval, I will summon a Teacher of the Battle Lore from the West Hinterlands," said the old wizard. 

Snape looked surprised, a rare occurrence regardless of circumstances. "A Hinterlander will lead?" he asked.

"No," replied Dumbledore. "It is not their nature to take on the whole of warfare for others; they only teach those who will raise arms."

"God help us," said Sirius. "We're reduced to bringing out mercenaries."

"A Hinterlander is not a mercenary, Mr. Black. Pray your remark remains unheard," said McGonagall.

"I suppose I don't understand as much as I should," interjected Lupin.

"Unsurprising. You were not an attentive student, were you?" sneered Snape.

Lupin glared but held his tongue.

Dumbledore nodded slightly to a slightly built witch, who was typing on what appeared to be a laptop computer. Lady Taemarantha VanScoy-Irvin was the newest member of the Order; an expert on the effects of magic on technological devices, she was also a folklorist and archivist.

"The Hinterlanders are masters of Core Magic," said VanScoy-Irvin. "Core Magic consists primarily of manipulating the energy that comes from the collision of Light and Dark magic. As you know, all magic stems from waves of energy emanating from quantum fluctuations at the sub-atomic level."

She continued hurriedly as she sensed her audience drifting. "Er, right, that's a better topic for later. The Hinterlanders are impressive fighters, and privy to secrets we can barely dream of. They will occasionally honor a call for help, if it serves a like need of their own. They will not serve Darkness." 

She paused and made certain she met each gaze in the room. "Their traditional payment is in souls."

"Regardless of whom they serve, or how they are paid," spat McGonagall, "they will expose these students to the same practices that have been so disruptive--and addictive to others. This will become a slaughter!" 

Dumbledore's eyes held no twinkle and his voice was devoid of merriment as he spoke. "I am prepared to hear any suggestions. Anyone? The time for alternative measures is passing rapidly," he intoned. The piercing silence of the room sealed the decision.

The next morning McGonagall departed to seek Harry and Draco, while Dumbledore prepared the distress signal.

On the deserted loading dock behind St. Mungo's a trio stepped out of nothingness. Two young men dressed handsomely as Muggle teenagers and an older woman wearing a severe business suit walked quietly out of the alleyway. 

"No, we cannot Apparate into the hospital. The charms are fully in place; anyone attempting to enter by Apparating would be splinched. Hence this outlandish mode of dress," lectured McGonagall. Harry wasn't listening. His mind kept bouncing on an image of Ron. What if Ron were dead? Harry felt nauseous at the thought.

The inside of the hospital was a picture of disarray. The injured and dying were being attended as best as possible by swarms of mediwizards. The three made their way to a desk with a large open book filled with blank pages. Minerva touched her wand to it and said "Weasley, Ronald. Weasley, Percival." Black letters formed on the pages. "Weasley, Ronald, third level, room 312. Weasley, Percival, fifth level, room 574." "That's it!" said Harry, as he raced toward a door marked "stairs," with Draco close behind. McGonagall threw up her hands. "There's a perfectly good lift," she told herself.

Harry's mind was blank, empty but for fear. He pounded up the stairs to the third level, dashed through the door and ran down the hall. No one was outside room 312; it was silent compared to the chaos of the lobby. Harry cracked the door open, praying he'd see his friend. Slowly an image he recognized came into view. It was Hermione, holding Ron's hand. Harry entered the room and whispered, "Hi, you two." Hermione screamed and shot across the floor. She hugged Harry fiercely, actually catching him slightly off his feet.

"We...we…we were told you were mi-mi-missing, maybe dead." "Neither," said Harry. "We were just slinking around, waiting for someone to come get us, preferably some pretty Auror." "Oh Harry!" she cried. Wiping her eyes she pulled him to an empty chair beside Ron's bed. The second-youngest Weasley looked fine, except for the terrible pallor of his hands and face. "Blood loss," said Hermione, reading the concern in Harry's face. "They say he'll patch up soon enough." Hearing the soft patter of whispers, Ron woke. He tried to focus his bleary eyes on Harry. "Are you Harry then, or have I died?" he asked. Harry took Ron's hand, avoiding a large bandage on his wrist. 

"Harry…yes, Harry!" Ron exclaimed, running his hand over his friend's face. He wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders and pulled him down, trying weakly to hug him. "_This is Ron; this is my brother,"_ thought Harry, as if seeing him for the first time. Almost hesitantly he moved into Ron's seemingly frail arms, afraid to hurt his injured friend. When his face touched Ron's cheek, relief overtook him. He sobbed once harshly into Ron's neck and held him as tightly as he could. When they let each other go, Harry dabbed his own tears away, while Hermione helped Ron dry his.

The semi-awkward moment was ruptured by an imperious drawl, as the door opened and Draco's head popped in. "Granger! Weasley! I'm so thrilled you're alive. It'd be hard to find such delectable targets for derision with you two gone." He started to withdraw when Hermione gestured for him to come in. She approached him and stood staring into the impassive face. Clasping Malfoy's shoulder she said softly, "We love you, too." Ron blanched and hollered, "Not _we_! Her, that's her statement! I still think you're a colossal prat!"

"Pay him no mind, Draco," Hermione said. "He talks about you all the time." With that, she led the shell-shocked Malfoy out of the room, leaving a gaping Ron and Harry alone. 

"She loves to boggle me, Harry," steamed Ron. 

"I think it's cute," said Harry. 

"Cute? CUTE?? I--ai!" yelled Ron as his injuries reminded him to lie still.

"After all, you guys did all call a truce when you found out…" 

"That you two were shagging? Yeah, 'spose that would have been a pretty good time to stop the feud. But we really stopped hating him when he--he--"

"Helped me," Harry interrupted, changing the subject.

"So how bad is it?" 

"Not bad really, a broken rib or two and a broken leg. They can heal that in a day or two. I'll need another day to build up."

"What happened?"

"I had gone to take Hermione a gift. I was just gonna leave it in her desk when the floor fell out from under me."

"Wow!"

"Yeah, wow. They pasted us pretty good," said Ron, his voice quavering a little.

"Who did, Ron?" asked Harry.

"I dunno! They were Death Eaters for sure; I mean they had the Mark and all. There was something that looked like a Dementor, and then some guys who looked like vampires. It was awful, Harry," whispered Ron as his voice broke entirely.

"You're safe now, ok? Just rest," said Harry in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "So, how's Perce?" he continued, as Ron relaxed slightly into the covers.

"He'll live. He broke all his arms and legs and he's got a concussion. Bloody showoff, always outdoing everybody!"

"Uhm, ok, Ron."

Ron grinned. "Just having you on some; seems the floor that fell out from under me landed on him."

"Crikey."

"Mum and Dad have gone to Hogwarts. No idea what's going on. Everything is hush-hush except for all the explosions. Hey, is it true about Malfoy's parents?"

"Yup."

"Double crikey! Nobody knows what's going on, do they?"

"If they do, they aren't sharing." 

The door opened again; this time Professor McGonagall entered. "Mr. Weasley! Flat on your back, I see. Enjoy the rest. I'll see you in a few days."

"But-" 

"You will know more when the time comes. We all will." As she left the room, she flung a package of chocolate frogs to Ron. They landed with a soft plop on his chest. McGonagall raised a finger to her lips and slipped out the door.

Giving Ron a parting grin, Harry followed the Transfiguration instructor out into the hall. He spied Hermione having an intense conversation with Draco. She started when Harry touched her shoulder. 

"We have to go, Hermione."

She held him again, burying her face in his soft hair. "We'll see you there," she said.

The lift deposited Harry, Draco and McGonagall back at the entrance to the hospital. As they exited the lobby, the deluge of screams and moans washed over them. Harry suddenly smacked his palm to his forehead. "Does your scar hurt, Harry?" asked Draco. "No, and that's my point! Why wasn't my scar hurting during any of this?" asked Harry.

Under a darkening sky, Snape wandered around the edges of the lake. The Headmaster had not disclosed to him why he should be the "official greeting wizard," but here he was. In the deepest recesses of his soul, a labyrinthine maze of fear, fury and ice even during the best of times, anxiety flourished at the mention of a Hinterlander. Hardy wizards and witches needed little encouragement to cast a protection charm at the mention of the powerful, reclusive group. No one even knew what they called themselves. Were they cultists? Maybe they were hooded fanatics or a lot of over-rated nutters. Snape's grandmother had told him stories about the Hinterlanders when he was just a tiny wizard-child. None of those stories were of the least fragment of comfort at the moment. 

In his reverie, he had missed a slight disturbance at the lake's center. There was a sound of bright bells coming from an ever-extending whirlpool, as a small crystal vessel pulled itself seemingly from the depths. The whirlpool formed into a spinning torus that rose above the surface of the lake. The cascading wall of water obscured the center of the vortex until it had floated gently to within meters of Snape's position. The song of the bells ended; the water receded, and a small boat was revealed beached at the water's edge. Standing on deck was a cloaked, hooded individual. The figure walked down a small gangplank and stood before Snape. In utter silence, a gloved hand extended a card. It read, "Elise Kingfisher. Teacher-at-Large," in spidery black script.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Snape, fighting a raging urge to push the figure back into the lake and run for the castle at top speed. Instead, he bowed. With a careless gesture, the figure tossed her hood back. Snape struggled to conceal his surprise. An oddly attractive woman stood before him. She had a thin, angular face framed by a mane of hair so black that Potter's looked washed-out in comparison. Streaks of pure white ran through the midnight sheen. Her eyes were dark, thought it was difficult to tell exactly what color they truly were. 

"And your name?" she asked, with a voice as warm as the black of her hair was cold. 

"Severus Snape," he replied while regaining his composure. "I am Potions Master for Hogwarts." 

"Hm. It was kind of the Headmaster to send such a handsome man to be my escort. You lead; I shall follow." A slight flush colored Snape's neck, but never reached his face. Silently, they followed the lane to the castle.

Snape led the woman to Dumbledore's office. After gaining entrance, he bowed in acknowledgement of the Headmaster and turned to leave. His last glance at Elise seemed dismissive, but for Snape, it was rich with curiosity.

She encircled Dumbledore with a tight grasp and kissed his cheek. The old Headmaster blushed. "It is indeed gratifying to see you again, Elise. I had hoped they would send you."

"And you haven't hoped in vain! But what string did you pull, you old puppet-master, to get me?"

"I will tell you later. But I must ask, Elise, how bad are things from your perspective?"

Elise frowned. "Not as bad as might have been. Not as good as they would be had you called for me two years ago."

"I was hindered."

"Ironic. The Ministry paid a high price for collusion, eh Albus? The dog they fed grew up--and ate them."

"We will all pay before this is finished, and count ourselves fortunate not to be devoured. Can we win?"

The woman turned her dark eyes away. "Yes. You will all have to adapt. You'll have to accept that you're at war, and war brings change. But you've always been a sturdy people. You're fighting for an honorable reason. Most importantly, you didn't bring first blood to the conflict. That will greatly aid you."

Dumbledore looked sad. "There's so much we don't know. I cannot escape the idea that I have failed utterly. I am suffering my best students, the best wizards of the next age, to be turned into the dogs of war."

"My dear old friend. You've always been so burdened by conscience. We like that, you know. The images are so fulfilling to us. We see tragic, good people elbow deep in blood, or the whore's redemption, or-" 

"Or Götterdämmerung?" interjected Dumbledore. 

"Exactly," said the woman. It gets a lot of play with our kind. We love a good story. And Albus, unless these students of yours fight, there will be no next age. The Core will destroy this world before risking Voldemort bringing war to us. Simply put, your school is the only hope for the survival of your race."

"I had feared we would arrive at this point," said Dumbledore.

"Albus, just be glad you arrived."

"And the price?"

"One."

"I understand."

Harry, Draco and Professor McGonagall bounced out of Apparation at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The two young men collapsed to the ground, moaning. McGonagall leaned against a tree, grateful for its solidity. After fighting his stomach down, Harry gasped, "How did we get here? Isn't it impossible to Apparate onto the Hogwarts grounds?" 

"Yes, it most certainly is, which is why we didn't. We have been in Apparation for over an hour. I…I simply don't have it in me to explain it now, Mr. Potter. Let's say that you can teach an old dog new tricks."

They rested there momentarily and gathered strength. A light mist was falling as they walked across the field to the castle, with McGonagall in the lead. Harry felt a feathery touch on his wrist and started slightly. Glancing down he saw Draco's hand wrapped around his. The cold fingers were barely discernable. Draco's face was set in the same grim focus that had been broken only briefly during the past few days. He stared straight on as he said, "You were happy here." It was almost an accusation, lacking invective. "Yeah," said Harry. "I was happy with Ron and Hermione, and later with you. This was the first home I'd ever known. You don't have to ask about now. You know." The only response from Draco was his twining his fingers into Harry's as they walked behind their former teacher.

By the time they reached the courtyard, Harry's mind was wandering far and wide. His true life had begun here. Would it end here as well? He wanted to confide his fear in Draco, but he knew the other man would not endure an inquisition at the moment. Indeed, it was Draco's way to give and take heart-secrets as he chose, not as others willed. Harry thought of their first encounter. _Kids are so dumb, _he said to himself, wincing at the memory.But as he remembered how they had made their truce, his worry relented. _Kids can be so very, very wise, too. _The fundamental rock of the earth might be cracking, but more unlikely things had been accomplished than the repair of the world. He had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy. Surely Fate would endure one more impossible victory. Harry's internal smile broke across his face in a silly lop-sided grin. Draco arched one perfect eyebrow at the silent laughter playing across Harry's face. His curiosity went unanswered as the huge castle doors swung wide to admit them.

End Chapter Three

Author's Tag: Chapter Four progresses, but take a few moments to review the story so far!


	4. The Approximation of Home

AUTHOR: Lord_Mhoram

AUTHOR EMAIL: Khel71@yahoo.com

CATEGORY: SLASH, WAR, ROMANCE, ANGST

KEYWORDS: HARRY, DRACO, SLASH 

SPOILERS: ALL BOOKS

RATING: R

SUMMARY: As the Light begins its mobilization, Harry and Draco are caught in the machinations of the war.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I'm innocent. 

Chapter Four

The Approximation of Home

__

The sun was setting over the eternally green waters of the gulf. Ocher-gold light struck the waves, turning them blue. However, the man at the window of the ancient turret had no eyes for the beauty around him. His mind was bent on other matters. Hunger filled his every thought; lust trickled into every nerve. Each passing moment carried him deeper into the well of his Master's control. This was to be expected. This was how it always happened. Long ago the darkness within Tom Riddle had cried out for power to accomplish terrible ends, and the Greater Darkness answered. Their fortuitous joining had given birth to Lord Voldemort, who now was claiming another to his corrupted heart. 

Lady Taemarantha stood in one of the great alcoves near the entrance hall. The darkness gathered, threatening rain, but Tae gave no sign that she noticed the worsening weather. Occasionally she would swear quietly as she typed away at the winged laptop fluttering in front of her like a flat, sluggish Snitch. Sirius Black stood behind her; his presence was almost as solid and reassuring as Hogwarts itself, though Black was not quite as impenetrable as the stone. He shifted his stance like the arms of scales. The blond witch was not unsympathetic to Black's anxiety, but her focus was deep within the shimmering image the computer displayed. The screen would blur, causing her to murmur steadying spells, quelling the disparity of magic, technology, and mostly untried techniques. She had been at work for an hour when she told Black that the results of her labor were imminent.

"Get your Omnioculars. They're about to fall back."

"Fall back?" said Sirius, pulling the Omnioculars from his robes.

"Never mind that. Just look over there. No, sorry, over there," she said, pointing to the Forbidden Forest.

"Couldn't you get in closer?"

"Not with this software. I'd risk dropping them into a wall. Trust me; that'd be bad. Very bad."

"Well, I suppose I agree."

Sirius peered at the patch of forest. Suddenly McGonagall, Harry and Draco appeared. His heart lurched when he saw the two young men pitch forward.

"What's that about? Are they hurt?"

"No, it's just taxing to Apparate this way. The tiredness passes rapidly. Don't go out there; let them get their feet under them."

Sirius exhaled heavily when he saw the dark-haired man stagger to his feet. A call from within the doors captured his attention as Tae followed him inside. Two boys were waiting at the foot of the stairs. One boy was skinny, pale and tall; the other was heavy, brown and short. 

"Is that him?" said the tall boy. "Is that the real Harry Potter?"

"Yes it is, Mr. Pell," replied Black. "The only Harry Potter I know."

"Wicked!" exclaimed the short fellow, nodding his head sagely. 

Black, besieged with questions from the excited youngsters, nodded to the astute Tae, who took her chance to leave. Black had calmed the boys when the castle doors began opening, revealing Professor McGonagall and her tired coterie. A gentle glance from Black caused them to back away respectfully, giving him room to greet his godson. Sirius stepped forward, acknowledging McGonagall while hugging Harry. He extended his hand to Draco, who took it with trepidation.

Harry searched Sirius' face for some explanation of the recent catastrophes but had found none when McGonagall interrupted his thoughts. "Gentlemen, " she said, looking from man to man, "I'm sure you have some discussion waiting, so I'll leave Mr. Black to show you your room. Should you require something before evening, please call Mr. Pell or Mr. Davies. They will serve as your assistants." With a parting smile, she turned and was soon lost in the shadows of the hall.

"All right, Harry?" said Sirius.

"Yes. No. What?" stuttered Harry, at a loss for words. He felt as if he could drown in the older man's apparent serenity. "Yeah, I'm all right, but I need to know, Sirius. What's this about?"

"I'll tell you both what I know, but not here. Let's go, shall we?" 

Pell and Davies turned and started up the staircase. Harry stole a glance at Draco, who had remained silent since their arrival at the castle. He seemed lost in thought, appearing neither happy nor unhappy; rather, a wistful look had taken residence on his face. The moving staircases provoked a feeling of nostalgia so acute Harry's knees almost buckled. A few moments later, he looked at Draco and said, "I thought that last series of stairs should have been, up-up-left-down?"

Sirius said quietly, "It was. A lot has been changed, in a short time."

"Why? Why would you change something like that?" Harry questioned.

"Hogwarts graduated its share of Death Eaters. If the Apparation charms fail and the walls don't hold, this may buy survivors a few critical moments. Any Death Eater who went to Hogwarts and returned uninvited would find things quite different," Sirius explained as they came to a nondescript stretch of wall lit by torches. This section of the castle was amazingly unfamiliar to both Harry and Draco. Harry watched as his godfather laid his hand against a curved stone and said "alohomora." A glittering blue outline of an arch appeared, graven in the stone. The rock facing parted, revealing a well-lit open hall, with rooms on each side. The corridor grew to a round common area that apparently served as a small library. Sirius continued, "This area has gone unused for years. It's been refurbished as best as possible, given that we didn't have a lot of time. Make yourselves at home while I tell you what I know."

Their room was more like a small apartment. It was sufficiently large for two people--if they were at ease with one another. It was well furnished and obviously meant for them. A rug embroidered with the Gryffindor lion graced one wall; the Slytherin serpent was commanding the opposite. The ageless rock of Hogwarts enclosed them as they stepped inside. Sirius gestured them to sit at a small table, while he reclined in a large comfortable-looking chair. 

"So, did you leave my flat in good shape?" he began.

"It's bloody fine! Now quit dancing about the topic. You do it poorly " snapped Draco.

Sirius bit back the sharp retort that tried to climb out. 

"Something happened--we don't know what--to unbalance the status quo. We do believe that the destruction of House Malfoy and the Ministry is symptomatic of the issue, but not the heart of it. In any event, our world is becoming very precarious."

"My parents are already dead, Black. That pushes 'precarious' to new shades of meaning. Be descriptive," bossed Draco.

"Right then. So many people are trying to run, hide or both; the Wizarding economy is sliding. Gringotts has thrown pretty severe restrictions on withdrawals and such as. Much more of a decline and we'll be selling ourselves out for services to Muggles. Wait--that came out wrong--"

"I've got the basic idea, Black. What else?" continued Draco, not relenting.

"Obviously Lord Voldemort thinks he can attack with impunity. He's very wrong about that," stated Black, with such flat force that Harry was made to remember Black's long suffering due to Voldemort. The deaths of James and Lily, his long years of imprisonment, all the stolen possibilities--any one of those misfortunes was enough to fear retribution from an average man--and Sirius Black was far from average.

"So what you're saying is-" started Harry, but was interrupted before he could finish.

"What I'm saying Harry is this: please wait for the Headmaster to speak with you. I can't say that it'll all become clear. It isn't for anyone, yet."

A large mirror on the far side of the room began flashing and humming a tune. Draco shot a sardonic eyebrow at Harry, who simply shrugged. 

"Pardon, gentlemen. I think that's for me."

After speaking to the mirror for a few moments, Sirius returned to them.

"It's new. Stands in for a fireplace for conversation, and with the _Vide_ spell you can look anywhere on the grounds and see in the mirror what you'd see from the Astronomy tower. Draco, that was the Headmaster. He'd like to speak to you now."

"I'll go too," said Harry.

"No need, Harry. Just wait here. I doubt this will take long," said Draco, following Black out.

Draco stepped into his dimmed quarters. The meeting with Dumbledore had taken longer than he had anticipated and apparently Harry had decided to nap. There was a trail of discarded clothes leading to the bed. Harry had claimed his side of the bed and was fast asleep. Only a few tufts of hair were visible from underneath the blankets, which Draco pushed down, revealing the Gryffindor's slightly smiling face. Draco stroked the line of Harry's jaw, softly brushing his lover's face. For all the sternness of Draco's spirit and the arrogance of his being, Harry's vulnerability touched him. The weariness of the day overcame the Slytherin as he slid out of his Muggle attire and collapsed onto the bed. Strength fading, he burrowed under the covers, wrapping his arm around Harry. 

Sleep was all too brief. "Dinner," called Harry, his voice coming from the dressing room.

"Fuck," said Draco disgustedly. "Come back to bed!"

"Why?" said Harry, knotting his tie and whistling.

"Let's stay here. Drink 'til we're sotted and do unspeakable things to each other. Why not?"

"Because the world is falling apart. My best friend is in hospital because of it; your parents died from it. That's why not. Besides, there's only butterbeer in the refrigerator."

"I'm poor."

Harry turned to face the blond man. "Poor?"

"My family's estate is being turned over to an arbiter until I'm twenty-one. Until then, I make due on a stipend paid from one of the minor accounts."

"That's not uncommon."

"Ask me how much."

"How much?"

"Five hundred Galleons a month. No extensions, no loans."

"That doesn't seem so bad, Draco."

"BAD? How barking are you? A week ago I could have bought Mallorca with my walking around money. Now I can't even afford to walk around."

Harry took critical note of Draco's demeanor and wished for the hundredth, maybe the thousandth time since he had started dating Draco, that he had some training in psychology. Still, the only techniques that seemed to work with Draco were honesty, fighting, and sex. Harry was still too fatigued for a fight, so contradicting Draco was right out. Dinner was coming up fast, so sex was not an option. That left honesty. He sidled over to the other man, who had drawn his knees up against his naked chest. 

He shook Draco's folded arms lightly. "Hey. Please don't tell me how I don't know what you're feeling. I'm already onto that. But it's not forever. You're still richer than most, right? Besides, we could both be killed before the week is over."

"You're fucking encouraging."

"I know. The Boy-Who-Lived, Idol to Thousands, gives advice!"

"When did you become such a flippy git?"

"It's catching. Get your arse in the shower and get ready."

Muttering rude comments about Harry's parentage, Draco thudded into the bathroom.

Upon entering the banquet hall, the young men noted several strangers. Strange was axiomatic for Hogwarts, but several individuals were unknown to either man. Professors Flitwick and Trelawney approached excitedly and greeted them. It seemed to Harry as if Trelawney were far more focused than he remembered her. Alastor Moody was speaking with Arthur and Molly Weasley. Sirius Black entered shortly thereafter, accompanied by Remus Lupin. Finally, Professor Snape entered, followed by the remainder of the Order. Resting her hand lightly on his arm was a black-haired woman whose appearance made the rest of the Order look a little less eccentric. Her robes were jet-black, shot through with blue complex embroidery. In her other hand she carried a wooden staff, metal-capped with gleaming silver inlay down its length. It was slightly longer than she was tall, but she moved as if it were an extension of her arm

Draco caught Harry's elbow as they sat down. Inclining his head as if in greeting, he whispered to Harry, "Look at her. Snape seems to be happy enough. She's not much to smile at, is she? All that bushy black hair. Ick. And her eyes are too close together. And--"

Harry was glaring. "Some of us don't have perfect hair, you know," he muttered.

Draco nodded. "I know, Bushy. I mean, Harry. Just a little humor. Surely you agree though. She isn't a stunner."

"Well, I'll say they probably would have homely kids."

Dumbledore stood and caught the room's attention. "We can't obviate the Apocalypse on empty stomachs, so tuck in!" exclaimed the old Headmaster. Everyone but Harry began. He sat motionless, not touching his food, although moments before he'd been very hungry. He was caught in his reverie, glancing around at the familiar faces, timeless, yet so changed. He remembered meeting each one for the first time and the development of each relationship, friend as well as acquaintance.

He was jarred back to the present with a sharp elbow from Draco and realized the woman with the staff was speaking. Elise had risen from the table and thanked Dumbledore for his introduction. Her voice seemed to Harry as if it resonated from every part of the room at once, filling him with a need to listen.

"I am very grateful to the Headmaster for his support. I will likewise be grateful for your own. I may ask strange things from you; my actions may seem unusual. However, it is not an exaggeration to say that your situation is on the crux and time is not your ally. Let me then, present myself to you. I am Elise Kingfisher, Disciple of the Pillars and the OverMagic. I am Oracle to my own Council and hold rank of WarMaster. I will speak for you what I see.

"This Order of the Phoenix is the inheritor of a tradition that has existed since magic came to this land, which is to say; the Earth. If the action of this Order fails and the Dark Lord sweeps you aside, terror will have no end, and life, while it fitfully remains, will be worse than Azkaban. I tell you now, your enemy is more than he once was. His ambitions have grown, and all appointed fates are askewed by his presence. You cannot endure a long war against such a foe."

She paused to let her words saturate the room. Before she could continue, Remus interrupted.

"I sincerely beg your pardon, but you're sounding rather grandiose," said Lupin. "I'm all aboard for destroying Voldemort, but are we really on the edge of annihilation?"

Elise focused on Lupin; the intensity of her gaze was belied by the softness of her speech. "Yes, you're in the neighborhood of it. Otherwise, I'd be at home with my feet up, eating licorice whips and reading a fine book. I am here because there is a rhyme and reason to things in the world, and over the past few years they haven't been matching up very well. This appears to be the fountainhead."

"And you're to put things right?" asked Snape.

"No! You are. You all are. I'm just a gadfly with very good vision" Elise emphasized.

Trelawney was nodding and smiling as if her own years of poor oracular vision were being vindicated. "Yes, dear, but how long, how long do we have? The Inner Eye cannot see if the gadfly does not speak"

Snape rolled his eyes so far Heavenward Harry thought they'd stick in his hairline.

"Two months, maybe less, before Lord Voldemort can bring such power to bear that the free wizards and witches of the Earth are decimated. After that, your culture of self-determination and individual freedom will be gone. Within a year, fate here will belong to Voldemort."

The room might have been filled with sculptures. "How did this happen?" breathed Lupin in a choked voice.

"COMPLACENCY!" roared Moody.

"Perhaps not only that," replied Elise calmly, "but Voldemort has undoubtedly gained vast power within the last thirty-six hours. It's as if--as if--"

"As if he had a new computer to run his software?" piped Tae.

Elise look puzzled and distant, as if she were consulting pages that were almost too far away to see. "Yes, that's good, very good, an excellent analogy. He's the same creation, but without whatever limitations he had previously. Consequently, you're losing ground, because he has better…ah…"

"Hardware," finished Tae.

"But to take that kind of step in power requires spells we would have sensed. You cannot hide that kind of energy. Nor is there any magical device known that could give the possessor such ability so quickly," said Snape smugly.

"Yes, well, Severus, about that," started Dumbledore, before he broke off and addressed the entire group, as Elise took her seat.

"To understand a bit better the nature of the crisis surrounding us, I present for your review a See-All brought to me by the House Elf Mene on the evening Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy died," said Dumbledore. He placed the See-All on the table and touched it with his wand. The See-All glowed brightly then faded rapidly. The lights in the room fell and a frigid wind blew over the seated guests like a horrible foretelling of catastrophe. A core of darkness grew in the center of the room, from which stepped Narcissa Malfoy's image.

"Albus--Albus Dumbledore," Narcissa said, as if fighting against the wind herself. "My time is greatly limited! Death Eaters are coming; we do not expect to survive. We will divert them from the Mansion as long as possible. Lucius has seen Voldemort's final, true intention. He must be stopped. You must obtain the circlet of the first crown made by giants. It is your only chance. I am sending my son to you. Assist him! If any of our kind survive this war, they will be within your grace, Dumbledore. In exchange for Draco's safety, I offer you fair bargain: the location of the crown. The coordinates are held within the crystal. Draco can free them, with the unforced, unspelled touch of his hand. He cannot be compelled, even under _Crucio_ or _Imperious._"

Narcissa pulled her cloak about her. "Remember, Dumbledore!" she cried, her voice fading away.

The wind lost strength and died as the lights rose again. Harry kept Draco in the corner of his eye. The Slytherin appeared deeply thoughtful, but no worse for the ordeal of seeing his mother again.

Dumbledore spoke into the silent room. "That See-All was recorded the evening of August tenth. The Ministry was aware of something magically destructive taking place when all the Infernal Influx sensors went off. Professor Snape assisted the Ministry in mounting a rescue, but when they arrived, the Malfoys had passed beyond our aid. Let us note that neither Lucius nor Narcissa died of _Avada Kedavra_. They died from the results of _Tempus Fugit Mortalis_, which as you recall from the See-All analyzed this afternoon, was cast on them by Lord Voldemort to force them into revealing the location of this crown.

"Archival lore is empty of references to any Crown being made by Giants. Certainly, Lucius found something very powerful, then sent it away. Why? We may postulate he hid the artifact because he had not mastered its powers and feared that the Dark Lord would wrest it from him. His vision into Voldemort's motivations was very upsetting. Lucius found it more important to hide this crown than risk Lord Voldemort obtaining it, though he knew he and Narcissa would die. And, apparently Lord Voldemort knew enough about this object to take action once he knew Lucius had found it."

"But Headmaster! What if You-Know-Who already has some part of this crown?" squeaked Flitwick.

"Then we'd see exactly what we've seen," said Elise. "A dramatic upsurge in the breadth and reach of his power, which is all the more reason for expediency in action."

Snape gave Harry a sidelong glance. "Potter's here. Be assured disaster will be close behind."

"He makes excellent bait, doesn't he?" interrupted Elise sardonically. "Really ripping for getting Voldemort's attention."

"Bait?" asked Sirius, trying to work the word around in his mouth. It felt greasy and unclean.

"Yes, Mr. Black. Looks to me like Potter over there has been staked out for the wolf on numerous occasions. Of course, the hunter was nearby every time, wasn't he?

"Yes," said Dumbledore, his soft voice carrying against the tumult of indignation that arose in the room. "Harry had better defensive instincts when he was eleven than most fully grown wizards."

Dumbledore faced Harry and spoke quietly. "If this is our ultimate conflict with Voldemort, it may very well fall to you, Harry, to finish the cycle begun when Voldemort arose."

Harry felt ill. The walls of certitude were giving way around him. "Pardon me," he stammered, and hurriedly left the room. Dumbledore's cry of "Harry, wait!" fell impotently into the silence.

"The answer is no, and I have to tell you all, I'm feeling a little vindication," said Draco. He tossed his napkin to the floor and laughed. "No. I think I'll say it again. Should I? Or would that be crass? Oh well, you only live once. No. I won't help you greedy, sanctimonious vultures swoop down on my family's home and loot it. Let's see, what's the plan? I help you find what you're looking for. You defeat Voldemort. It's a triumph for the 'Side of Light,' and we never ever mention the little bits of Dark Magic that made this victory possible. My father always said Dark and Light were self-serving, but Light rolled in twaddle. He was right."

Draco stood and left the table while continuing his diatribe. "One item more. Harry's worth ten of any one of you goddamned lot. Cheerio!"

Sirius grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him around.

"Do you mind?" the Slytherin jeered. "That's very nice silk. I'd prefer to leave it untorn."

Sirius released Draco, who stalked out of the room. 

Lupin sighed. "Was that 'bait' comment really necessary?"

It was the best place to collect himself he could think of. Hagrid's cabin was quiet, dark, and reminiscent of the happier parts of his childhood. Slowly the hurting in his chest eased. He knew he had been part of Voldemort's obsession for years. Hearing it said aloud was nothing new. _What's next--panic attacks?_ he thought bitterly. Shaking his head, he had started to rise when he heard voices. Peeping outside, he saw Sirius and Draco in furious confrontation. 

"Just leave off," hissed Draco.

Sirius shoved Draco hard against the tree. "Not bloody likely! You've barely arrived, and you're throwing our courtesy back in our faces? Why?" he demanded.

"Because I can!" Draco screamed. "It's the only value I've got, and when it's gone you can get rid of me. You will, too!"

"What in the name of the gods are you talking about?"

The young man made no reply, except to fix Black with a glance between murderous and despairing.

Sirius controlled his fury with an obvious effort and replied in an almost conversational tone. "You need to think about this. If those people you just insulted start to die, and Harry entertains any thought that you might have prevented so much as a single one of those deaths, it will be the end of your relationship. He won't want it to be; you both might try to work around it, but it'll always be there."

A knife-like smile distorted Draco's face. "That's insidious. It's blackmail. You're trying to twist me, without sullying your hands with _Crucio._"

"Draco, I'm not your opponent. I want to understand."

"Fuck you. There's nothing to understand. You want me to help you win this godsforsaken war. Probably get me and Harry killed in the doing. Let me tell you now, Black. I'm not joining your cause."

"That's not--"

"Save it. I'm tired, and I have to find Harry. If you loved him, you'd've been looking for him, not me." With a contemptuous backward glance, Draco disappeared into the lengthening evening shadows.

"I was," Sirius whispered to the empty air.

__

End Chapter Four 

The author wishes very much to thank MOI for her reviews and encouragement, JessicaCMalfoy for reviews, encouragement and beta work, Charlee for consultations, and Beth for her many duties so well-performed as co-writer. If you've read this far, please review! Send me e-mail or post here. Thank you for reading; thank you for reviewing.

__


	5. The Fires of Night

****

AUTHOR: Lord_Mhoram

AUTHOR EMAIL: Khel71@yahoo.com

CATEGORY: SLASH, WAR, ROMANCE, ANGST

KEYWORDS: HARRY, DRACO, SLASH 

SPOILERS: ALL BOOKS

RATING: R

SUMMARY: As the Light continues its mobilization, Harry and Draco are caught in the machinations of war.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

The Fires of Night

Draco sat under a tree, pulling the twilight in with him. The rain was heavier now, but a skillful drying spell coupled with a cooperative overhanging branch was keeping him safe from the wet weather. Failing to find Harry, he had plopped down in deep frustration. The deepening gloom suited Draco's mood, as the unseasonably cold rain also satiated a need for weeping he felt he could no longer afford. The wind had come up, penetrating the light cloak he wore and making him shiver. Still, Draco didn't look forward to going back into the castle and chancing another run-in with Sirius Black. He felt too edgy, too near exhaustion for another fight. He barely looked up when Harry stepped out of the shadows and approached him.

"Where've you been?" asked Draco, his voice low.

"Nearby. I wanted to give you some time to calm down."

Draco made no reply.

Harry sat, making sure he was within the umbrella spell's reach.

"So why are we sitting out here in the rain?"

"It makes me happy. It's more pleasant than in there," said Draco, gesturing sharply toward the castle.

"I heard you making friends with Sirius."

"Yes, I'm giving you the boot, Harry. Sirius is mad for me."

"Gonna shag him?"

"Shag him rotten."

"I could tell you fancied each other. He practically held your hand."

"It was my neck he wanted to hold- in a death grip. He thinks I'm an arrogant, ungrateful prick. I'm sure he wonders what you see in me."

"I wonder that myself."

Draco speared Harry with a brutal sidelong glance. "Don't push me, Potter. I'm nigh ready to let you all go fuck yourselves on your little crusade."

"What are you on about? Why are you still so angry?"

"I just am. Why don't you sod off? I don't feel like an interrogation from you and your godfather," shot Draco petulantly, his relief at Harry's appearance irrationally and abruptly evaporating.

"Nope, won't work. You're going to have to tell me why you're so mad."

The wind moaned loudly in the trees as Harry waited for Draco to answer. The loneliness of the forest lent Draco a preternatural aura that was increasingly disturbing to Harry. A sense of sorrow and anger radiated from his lover that was nearly unbearable. 

Draco's voice was soft under the night. 

"I lived all my life-until you came-for my father. I was a tool, but it didn't matter. I didn't have anything better to do. But I always knew I was a device, Harry. I was just a moving piece for my father to play for his purposes. Do you know that's what you are to them? That's what you are to those fine people in that castle, Harry. You're the piece of the puzzle they won't do without. Do you ask yourself why? Why can't they fight this war without one nineteen year old? Why the fuck can't they do it without you?"

Harry was oddly moved by the passion in Draco's voice. 

"This isn't about being used, is it? You're afraid I'm going to die."

"Too bloody right I am. Where will I be then, you blinking fool?"

"I don't know, Drake. It's always been like this for me. When Voldemort killed my parents and gave me my scar I quit being normal, and the only way I can ever have a half-way normal life is to outlive all this Boy-Who-Lived crap. But I'd prefer not to die, and if you're with me-" Harry took a deep breath and plunged on, "I know I won't. But the war's got to end."

"Harry, it's going to end for sure. There are things coming our former professors don't have the guts to have nightmares about. Those things are going to fall on this place, and it will be over!"

"Drake, it's my choice to fight. I need you. No one at Hogwarts is going to abandon me--well, Snape is questionable, I suppose, but I need you more than anyone or anything else."

"It's not about abandonment, Harry. I'm not leaving you. I just want you to understand how serious this is."

Harry pushed his boyfriend's hair back and kissed his forehead. "You're complicated, aren't you?"

"You get what you deserve, Potter."

"That sounds like an invitation. Let's go in."

Their apartment was chilly. Draco started a fire while Harry rummaged in a closet, finally pulling a huge, fuzzy yellow blanket from it. 

"What are you going to do with that?" asked Draco quizzically.

"I had planned to wrap myself up in it; do you mind?"

"I suppose I don't. I'd like to join you."

'Then join me."

Draco stepped into Harry's embrace, kissing him. 

"You're trembling," Harry murmured as he broke the kiss.

"Noticed that, did you? I'm cold."

Wordlessly, Harry pulled Draco's shirt free of his pants, then up and over his head. Draco's pallid skin showed the marks of Harry's fingers at each touch. Harry continued undressing his lover until he was shorn of clothing and safely wrapped in the blanket. 

Draco repeated Harry's gesture, stripping him bare. Clinging to each other, they reaffirmed the tenderness that strengthened and healed them. Harry pulled Draco down to the bed as the firelight danced across the stony permanence of the walls. Night wheeled outside the castle; the stars peeped through the scudding clouds; wind sang through the trees, but inside the room there was only the sound of soft moans, cries of encouragement and love. 

The next morning they went to see Dumbledore. Taking the crystal in his left hand, Draco spoke a series of fluid, open syllables that reminded Harry of nothing human at all. He transferred it to his right hand and repeated the sonorous phrase, then returned the See-All to the desk.

"Why both hands?" asked Harry.

"If you use one hand only, you trip the protective charm. It would have blown a hole twice the size of this office through the castle. You have to use both hands to unlock the contents without dying."

"Oh."

"Lucius and Narcissa were very efficient with keeping secrets," said Dumbledore quietly.

"I suggest you squint," Draco said. "These things usually end up looking like Guy Fawkes' Night. Here it comes."

A glare broke from the crystal, making a fireworks-like display. Hovering in the air before them a pattern emerged. Colored dots connected by silver lines traced over and over again until they converged on one golden speckle, which twirled in the air in front of Draco. He reached out and touched the dot, which immediately expanded into a staggering show of scintillating light. Loopy script whirled past their faces, moving faster and faster until finally disappearing.

"Consummate artists, the Veela," said Dumbledore. "Unfortunately, I am unfamiliar with the dialect. It seems archaic. Draco?"

"No. I know a little, but that's not the Veela that's spoken today. It's too fast for one thing. There's too much there, too. And there's got to be a way to slow everything down."

"If there is, we will find it. With the See-All's protective spells removed, the entire Order can view it. We will begin immediately studying its contents. Draco, thank you for offering your assistance," said the Headmaster, rising to accompany them to the door.

Draco hesitated, then addressed Dumbledore. "Sir, last evening my comments and manner were execrable. I apologize for my behavior. My performance was greatly inferior to my upbringing--and education."

Dumbledore let a small smile flit across his face at the almost-compliment from the young man.

"Apology accepted, Mr. Malfoy. Times are extraordinarily stressful."

Draco made a brief bow in acknowledgment and gratitude.

They had barely stepped into the hall when Pell hurried up. 

"Mr. Potter! The Teacher wants you and Mr. Malfoy in her office immediately."

"What exactly is she, do you think?" wondered Harry aloud as they followed Pell.

"I don't know, Harry. I've heard something of what she claims to be, but they're extinct. People like Dumbledore helped them to die out," replied Draco matter-of-factly.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

It turned out Elise had borrowed an empty office down the hall from McGonagall. She was sitting at her desk, feeding treats to a pudgy hedgehog when Pell ushered them in. She was dressed casually in jeans and a cambric top, which made her look every inch the Muggle. Draco raised his eyebrows, but Harry merely shrugged. 

"Come in, sit down! I've been over your files at some length. Highest honors at Hogwarts. Advanced studies at the London Master Classes. You're both excellent material for something important."

"Auror?" asked Harry.

"Lancer," replied Elise.

"Pardon?"

"Arch-Auror," said Draco, groaning. "And entirely mythical."

Elise crossed her legs and looked irritated. "Mythical! You disappoint me, Malfoy. I thought that your bloodline would have remembered us better."

"Oh, I heard stories about the Lancers. I also heard stories about King Arthur, but I don't think you're here to knight us. The Grail isn't at the Manor, either, so we can skip that part of the quest. Or are you really here from Avalon, instead, priestess?"

"My title is 'Disciple,' and sarcasm, Mr. Malfoy, is a thin and unnecessary defense for a person of your talents. So why don't you drop it and tell me your thoughts as to why I'm here?"

Draco's fury grew again, coming from some dark well that rose and fell according to some unknown, inexorable pull. "I have no idea why you're here, Teacher. Is that what I'm supposed to call you? Good luck with that. As far as I'm concerned, you're part of some typically inscrutable, very likely ineffectual plan. I hope to hell you've got something better to throw at the Dark Lord than fairy tales, or we're all dead."

"You really don't have an idea, do you? I could throw you a staff and you'd have no clue. The Lore is completely lost."

"Enlighten both of us, please," asked Harry, trying to intercede. 

"Very well. The Lancers were a group of four mercenary wizards who fought for various kings and queens during the First Great Age of Magic, about one thousand years before Hogwarts was founded. The pureblood Great Houses were still ruling the Wizarding world at that time. Now these mercenaries were very skilled, but also profoundly far-sighted. It was their goal to bring about a world where violence and strife could be curbed by education and the instillation of virtue. For a thousand years the Traditions of the Lancers guarded that dream until the time came when a fortress of learning could be established. The Four Founders of Hogwarts were the last four Lancers."

"Then why, with such illustrious alumni, weren't the Lancers remembered?" asked Draco.

"The Lancers had already become secretive because they wanted a new world to be born. That world couldn't come about with the icons of the Lancers hanging over the head of every student. They wanted people to believe in Hogwarts, to trust that knowledge and wisdom would bring about a better outcome than force of arms. They abandoned most of the war magic, symbolized by the staff. All the passion of the Founders, the last four Lancers on earth, was poured into this school. The four Houses and their sigil animals are the only Traditions of the Lancers that remain. Magical lore eventually split into Light and Dark, and the Lore of the OverMagic was lost, apparently completely."

Harry leaned forward, intent on Elise's words. "OverMagic?" he asked.

"The Core magic, the source of your abilities, with no shading for light or dark, good or bad. The OverMagic simply exists as power that can be used as the wielder wills. It's capricious and difficult, existing without regard to human morality. The Lancers didn't create the Lore that describes the OverMagic, but studied it."

"Where did it come from? Is that what Voldemort is using now?" asked Harry.

"Where it came from is a long story and will only muddy the issues here, I think. In a way, it's quite mundane. And it's unlikely that Lord Voldemort is using the OverMagic. It requires persuasion and would not respond well to being the hand servant of a creature like Voldemort. "

A quiet moment passed. Draco sighed heavily and said, "I don't see how this helps. You said we have less than two months. I doubt we can get up to Super-Auror speed before we need it."

"And that, my sarcastic friend, is why I'm here."

"To be the unfair advantage?"

"All advantages are unfair. If you haven't realized that, you're more naïve than I imagined."

Draco said calmly, "Cryptic mumbling won't kill a single Death Eater."

Elise looked at both men carefully. "No, it won't. To kill Death Eaters means fighting, and fighters need leaders. No one can make you do what you don't want to. But the people here at Hogwarts have great faith in both of you. The Auror Corps has been savaged and there's not enough time to retrain all of them. I can only do so much, and I'd like to start with you two. Acceptable?"

"Yes," exclaimed Harry, prompting Draco to narrow his eyes and nod curtly.

"Let's go outside," Elise said, scooping up the hedgehog and placing him on her shoulder. "I think it's time you were Sorted."

She led the two outside to the field where Madame Hooch instructed flying during the school term. A pile of white wooden poles, each about a meter and a half long, was waiting for them there. She muttered to herself as she examined each pole. Raising to face them, she said, "Have you met my Sorting Hat? His name is Iskander." She held out the hedgehog and tapped him with her wand. Iskander seemed to melt and flow until in his place was her staff. 

"He's very talented," remarked Draco.

She threw them each a pole. 

"If you're familiar with any of the staff disciplines, forget them now. A Dementor knows nothing about human honor. An ensorcelled wizard won't care that you're executing your flourishes snappily. Your job is to fight and win, through your wits and through your wand. Now, a staff, armed with your wand, is called a Lance. The joining spell is complicated, so I won't teach you that today. I just want to see how you react to a few surprises. This is one of the few times you'll ever use an unarmed staff in combat. If you should find yourself in a situation where you're using a plain stick of wood to smack a Death Eater in the head, you're too sad to live. Now, you're both competent wizards. You're both star Quidditch players. You've been instructed in advanced dueling. Consequently, I won't feel too bad for beating the hell out of you. So I'll give you knights off the board. It's two against one, and by the way, boys--I don't fight fair."

Harry and Draco exchanged glances. Harry slowly stretched out his staff and tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

She merely turned around, looking about her. "Eh, chaps, you can actually throw a blow you know, I won't tell-"

Finally tired of banter, Draco whirled his staff in a vicious uppercutting arc that would have decapitated Elise upon impact, had it actually arrived. Instead, she sprang into the air, and as if her staff were a broomstick, flew over Draco's head. Landing squarely, she kicked him lightly in the hindquarters while shoving Harry to the ground. 

"One for me, zero for the gits! Try another?"

Draco was beginning to turn an angry purple-red when Harry cried "Tarantallegra!"

Elise began furiously dancing as Draco rotated his staff lazily. "You're very coordinated," he said. "I'm going to hit you now."

"Finite incantantem!" she shouted, countering Draco's attack and feinting. Draco didn't take the lure, but instead pressed his attack. Harry joined the fray, and all thoughts of more feints were lost in the furious melee that followed. 

The blazing summer sun climbed overhead, but the three fought all morning. Fatigue rose and fell in their muscles, but the contest continued until Elise made good on an miniscule opening in Draco's defenses. Her staff made an ugly crunching noise against his chin, spraying blood and dropping him heavily to the ground. 

Harry turned and started for Draco when a brutal rap in his right side reminded him of the combatant behind him. Clutching his injured ribs, he shouted, "He's hurt!"

"Of course he's hurt! That's what I've been trying to do. And never turn your back on the enemy again, Potter. A Death Eater would've blown your spine out through your chest."

Harry looked at the unmoving body of his lover. He threw his weapon down and glared at Elise. "I can't do this now," he said.

The impact of the staff in his stomach was so hard he was on his knees before the pain had even reached his brain. Coughing and retching bile, he was struggling to bring his wand up when the Teacher's staff cracked across his chest, hurling him backward. He landed in agony, tears pouring reflexively from the well of pain that overflowed his senses. His wand was nowhere near. 

"Never disarm yourself in the presence of the foe," said Elise softly.

Harry felt a light tap on his chest, barely perceptible through the pain. Elise had placed her staff over his heart and was chanting softly, her eyes closed. Pale blue light coursed from the end of the staff into his body. The pain started to drain away through his aching chest, up into the auroral emanation. Suddenly the sound of a thousand irritable bees filled the air and Elise was slammed away as if she were as inconsequential as chaff. 

Harry turned his head, flopping his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Draco was holding his staff under his left arm, hands on both knees, breathing heavily. He staggered over to where the Teacher lay. Her shoulder was smoking slightly. In a voice that was somewhere between calm and amazed she asked him, "You armed the staff? You made a Lance? I thought...thought you had lost the Lore." 

Draco shook his head, his chest still heaving. "I still had my wand. When I got up…I tried. Guess I got it right." Blood poured from the gashes on his face and jaw, spattering onto her as he slammed his Lance down onto her chest, striking it hard against her sternum. 

"Malfoy, don't. This is where you stop," she said, pain from her own wound beginning to thicken her voice.

Unable to speak further, he grinned like a ghoul and slammed the Lance into her chest again. Blue-black tendrils of light began to gather, writhing along the staff's length.

"_Crucio!" _screamed Elise, arcing her hand like a knife towards his chest.

Even then Draco refused to cry out, but buckled and fell atop her.

"_It figures," _she thought.

Harry awoke with a start. His head felt two sizes too large and breathing was difficult. Voices were raised in dispute nearby. He could make out McGonagall's precise but heated cadence. Dumbledore was in the mix as well, and….of course, the Teacher, Elise Kingfisher.

"I thought the idea was to teach them, not beat them to death! Headmaster, I appeal to you-"

"No, they won't get beaten to death, Voldemort will take those two and put them under _Crucio_ for a few months, then pour the remainder out, is that what you'd like? Headmaster, I warrant they've been injured more playing Quidditch than in my training!" said Elise hotly.

"This topic can and will wait for tomorrow," replied Dumbledore, apparently addressing both women. 

Harry heard one set of footsteps clatter off. Dumbledore and Elise remained within earshot and by the sound of it, were heading for Harry's location. He shut his eyes and continued to listen.

"They're extraordinary, Albus! Malfoy is smart, vicious, and Potter--yes, very brave, creative, though he has to stop his moral sense mucking up his instincts in battle. They held me off for three hours, though I will confess: I did cast a few regenerative spells to keep us all in the fight. But the important thing is that I have taken their measure and they are ideal. With fifty of them we could march on Voldemort tomorrow."

"You don't have fifty of them, Elise. Each student of this school, past and present, is unique. I cannot over-emphasize the importance of supporting Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy during this situation. Even taking into account Voldemort's special vulnerabilities where Harry is concerned, I will not have the outcome of this war placed on his shoulders without us doing our part."

"Yes, Headmaster," she said quietly, sounding chastised to Harry's ears. "Then you will let me train them in the Lore?"

"Yes, of course, Elise. But curb your energies a bit. We are all flesh and blood, in the end. How's the shoulder?"

"Sore. If Malfoy hadn't been so furious and had been more focused he would have vaporized me."

"I am very grateful that did not come to pass. Now let me tell you about a student we had. Excellent in Herbology. I have a few ideas, Elise. They're a little unconventional, but might suit our purposes."

The sounds trailed away. Harry got up on his elbow, wincing at the pain in his side. Draco lay nearby, apparently asleep. His bruises were vivid against his bloodless skin. A bandage lay across his chin. Golden light seeped out from the dressing. On impulse Harry raised his hospital shirt and looked at his own wound. The same odd poultice was across it, glowing. Seeing him awake, Madame Pomfrey bustled to give him a tiny sip of a sweet, thick liquid. Soon he fell back into deep, dreamless sleep as he felt his hand being taken gently by someone.

Draco ate his breakfast slowly, gingerly swallowing his food. He didn't quite trust the incredibly rapid healing the Teacher had provided. The ease of his recovery reminded him too strongly of Dark Magic. Harry had been called to the Headmaster's office, leaving Draco alone in the hospital ward. The empty bed beside his seemed to accuse him of sloth, so he sped his eating. He had barely finished when Madame Pomfrey caught his attention. "You're wanted in the Headmaster's office, Draco," she said while checking his mostly healed injuries. "Thank you," he replied, causing her to shake her head at his departing back. Courtesy coming from Draco Malfoy? Maybe the end of the world really was upon them.

Snape, McGonagall, Sirius Black, and Lupin were already present when he arrived, as were Tae and Harry. Tae's fat little laptops fluttered nervously around her head. The fireplace behind Dumbledore was filled with the image of a beautiful woman, but the setting was far from attractive. Explosions could be heard in the distance, as could the noise of a leathery, gurgling rasp that seemed to be increasing. 

"Elena, you must concentrate. You must get your people past the border of your Apparation shield. Aurors will meet them there."

"We will try! Sergei and Alex will bring as many students as possible. This is no simple attack; we have been betrayed. We are going to fight our way out. I will join the other Dragoons and stay the blow as long as possible. Watch for us, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore said quietly, "That was Elena Katerina Mikailanova, the deputy Headmistress at Durmstrang. It seems the Headmaster there, Draskovich, attempted to turn the school over to Voldemort's forces. Elena is trying to get as many of her people--students and staff--to Hogwarts before they are killed."

Turning to Tae, he asked, "If we send scouts to open a TransApparation portal, can you bring them through?"

"I can bring them through, Headmaster, but I don't have the ability to keep such a large number of people in stasis while we ascertain their particulars. Even if I could, such a lengthy transit would surely kill any of the injured."

"Why lengthy?" asked Black.

"When people enter TransApparation in a group, they can't come out separately. They have to come out all at once."

Several blank stares greeted her.

"TransApparation is very new. It lies right in the lee between science and magic and tries to bridge the gap between Muggle technology and Wizarding technology. Normally, people Apparate from one location to another, instantaneously. TransApparation creates a series of hops that act much the same as Portkeys. To get to Hogwarts via TransApparation, the traveler must cast a specific spell, which traces through Rommie here," she said, fondly poking her laptop. "This enables me to cast a duet spell that releases the, ah, visitor, shall we say, to the grounds. It is still somewhat imprecise."

"It's heresy," muttered Snape. "I thought you were an expert on those things."

"Computers in general scare the purple daylights out of me, Professor Snape," retorted Tae. "Rommie and Sephone are more like people than machines."

Dumbledore said firmly, "Bring them to the Quidditch pitch, if you please. We will send scouts to the escape routes she disclosed. They will open the portal there."

Sirius and Snape burst into furious agreement, briefly startling one another.

Snape gestured impatiently. "You, go ahead!" he snapped.

"Spies, Headmaster, this entire situation could be nothing more than an insertion maneuver for spies, sabotage, anything!" exclaimed Sirius.

"I am forced to agree with Black. The circumstance would leave Hogwarts ripe for infiltration, Headmaster," said Snape.

"Nonetheless, we must take what action we can," replied Dumbledore. "Mr. Malfoy? Your father maintained a small dwelling relatively near Durmstrang, I believe?"

"Yes, Headmaster, but I think it would be very dangerous to lead those people there."

"Yes, certainly it would be, which is why we won't. Would you assist Lady Taemarantha in her preparations, please?"

Mystified, Draco nodded.

Harry had never seen so many Aurors of so many types in one place at one time. Their shielding charms shone brightly even in the afternoon sun. A phalanx of them stood guard around Harry, Draco, Dumbledore and Tae. Another formed a semicircle halfway around the pitch. Sweat dripped from Tae's face as she worked to bring through mass of students and instructors from Durmstrang. She typed feverishly on one of the floating laptops while the other whirred and clucked.

Sweat dripped down her face from the concentration of pulling two loops of reality together. The air grew taut and heavy, and as if incredible heat was being applied to an unknown surface, a towering oval shaped distortion at the far end of the field began to form. Brilliant shards of light began to pierce the area of molten air until the shimmering screen tore and fell away. 

Harry gasped. He was plainly looking at another_ where. _In that _where_, fire and darkness were consuming everything around, and the landscape was alive with the forms of people. A huge wave of those people moved towards the portal and began crossing it. Streaming across the pitch, they ran stumbling into the bright light of the afternoon. Brilliant green bolts of hateful energy shot towards them, causing Harry to shudder as he recognized the emerald violence of the Killing Curse. The ragged refugees had clearly been embattled since leaving Durmstrang.

The stream of people trickled and ceased, while an uneasy few minutes passed. Then, with inhuman speed, a figure in black hurtled from the gap and raced toward Dumbledore. The Aurors sprang into place and leveled their wands, only to be called back by the Headmaster. "She's ours," he said. She passed the exhausted Durmstrang group, many of who were collapsing in place, and passed through the Aurors. Gasping, her robe in tatters, Elise Kingfisher came to a broken halt before Dumbledore. Professor Snape seemed to materialize by her side.

"Close the gap now, they're coming through!" wheezed Elise.

"Don't worry, it's fine. I'm closing the--oh--oh my."

"Close the damned door, you idiot!" shouted Snape.

"I can't! Something's holding it open--coming this way. The system's frozen, I have to reboot." 

But her time for preventing the breach of the Apparation portal had passed. There was a collective intake of breath as a man strolled casually, arrogantly out of the hole in space. The man halted and Harry saw his face. His heart took a jagged, painful beat, almost stopping. The man on the pitch could have been Draco's older brother. The hair was different, auburn instead of platinum; the eyes he couldn't discern, but the face was set in a cruel mien. He looked as if God had started to make Draco and lost His way.

The man raised his hand to the crowded pitch and boomed loudly, "Hear me! I, Marné Malfoy, the Servant of Lord Voldemort, bring you his sufferance. This day, in his beneficence, he will accept your surrender. Swear your allegiance and Lord Voldemort will spare you all." 

"No, young man, that will never do."

"Who speaks to the Servant of Voldemort?" 

There was a rustle as the Aurors parted to allow Dumbledore through.

Dumbledore drew himself up. Wind whipped around the old wizard's cloak, and his voice was clear as the radiant sun made his beard shine like mithrail. 

"Tell your master that so long as one stone of Hogwarts remains on top of another, we will not surrender. Indeed, if he values any continuity of his own life in this world, it is he who should consider surrender."

The Servant of Voldemort laughed the bitter high laugh of his master.

Without warning Draco tore his way to the front of the massed lines of soldiers-wizards. "Marné! I'll see you in Hell!" he shouted.

"Already been, cousin! Lucius says hello!" said Marné contemptuously.

Pushed beyond all endurance Draco drew his wand and screamed _"Avada Kedavra!" _The viridian fury ravaged the air, vitrifying the light as it raced to the elder Malfoy. It struck him, enveloped him, and fell aside in tatters. 

"Did I do that wrong?" asked Draco, with inhuman calmness as his rage subsumed into the mystery of his target's continued existence. "It was my first time and all, but I was certain-"

"No, you had the intent and the intonation entirely correct," replied Dumbledore dryly.

The laughter came in gales now, sickening shrieks of putrid mirth. _Avada Kedavra_ had impossibly failed.

"As you see, as you all see, great power is mine. Power that will scour you from the earth unless you surrender," gloated Marné.

Dumbledore signaled Tae. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes, Headmaster. Plan 'B' is now in effect." She turned to the second laptop and tapped keys while twirling her wand around the skittish device.

Another portal opened behind the Aurors. This time it was high in the air and very wide. Three dragons the color of old blood shot through the tear in space and made for the figure of Marné Malfoy. He raised his wand, but the lead dragon had already hurled fire down to the earth, enveloping Malfoy in liquid flame. He screamed and staggered back towards the still open door. The dragons, each carrying a hooded, caped rider, pursued him through. With a loud incongruous clank both portals closed. 

Taemarantha sat down heavily, her chest heaving from exertion.

As mediwizards and witches began to go to the aid of the Durmstrang refugees, Elise approached. She clasped Harry and Draco on the shoulder and said airily, "Chin up, men. There's your first win."

They could only stare after her.

**__**

End Chapter Five

Author's Note: Thanks to MOI for a faithful and outstanding job as beta reader; also thanks to JessicaCMalfoy for her work as "color and voice" beta. Finally, thanks to Beth for her continued enthusiasm about this fic and her many faithful duties as co-writer. Please review this chapter/fic! **Input is welcome.**


	6. Wicked

**Chapter Six **

This story contains slash (adult male homosexual content).  Avoid if this squicks you.  Please post your reviews!  

**_To Topple the Pillars of Heaven_**

**_"Wicked"_**

_The leader of the dragon riders looked down at the remains of Durmstrang.  Nothing was moving, except the flames, towering unchallenged into the sky.  He shook his head sadly and signaled to his two companions.  Wheeling their huge reptilian mounts they turned and flew toward fairer land._

Madame Pomfrey was awash in patients.  Mediwitches and mediwizards had arrived from Hogsmeade to assist, but Poppy was glad for any hands to help, including Harry and Draco's.  Huge tents had been conjured across the Quidditch Pitch to comfort the injured and dying.  Within the tents, the horrible sounds of the aftermath of battle reverberated in the ears of the wizards.   "Good, but more swishing and less flicking," said Madame Pomfrey, demonstrating the proper bone-setting technique.  Harry copied the movement, while Draco rolled his eyes at the pedagogy. 

Neither boy got a chance to put the spell in practice.  A patient being treated behind them sat up groggily, as blood gushed in scarlet fountains from his mouth.  Mortally wounded, the boy began thrashing wildly.

"Assessareum!" cried Poppy. "Harry, Draco, hold him down!" she exclaimed, her voice beyond urgent.  At a loss, they complied.

 "Tear in the superior vena cava, fissuring, complete failure of— Vitae Suspendium!" she shouted, but in vain.  "He's too weak, oh, too weak"she whispered.  Passing mortal assistance, the boy shuddered and slumped down into death.  Harry looked up tentatively as Madame Pomfrey closed her patient's wide, staring eyes.  She folded his arms gently and murmured "Gods rest you and keep you."  Without looking at Harry or Draco, she said, dully, in a voice frightfully alien, "Next."

Harry staggered outside the tent and noisily vomited.  Draco followed him into the emptiness of the pitch.   Silencing spells kept the hell of the field surgery confined to the tents, so that the only sound was the moan of the wind through the grass and Harry's strained breath.  Draco knelt down behind Harry and rubbed his shoulders.  The madness of the field of blood that had overtaken Hogwarts spun in Draco's mind.  Escape—and there was a way to do it—maybe.

From out of nowhere, Draco asked, "If we could leave, would you?' 

"What do you mean, leave?" questioned Harry.

"I mean, leave, the two of us, and go away, away from the war, away from everywhere."

"Where?  It sounds like suicide.  I don't know what you're talking about, but no, even if you could get us far enough, I wouldn't go."

"I didn't think you would.  All my routes out of this are closing down, Harry.  Damn."

Harry retched again, this time only dry-heaving.  When he had recovered he said, "I don't know what to tell you.  I can't leave.  I won't leave.  You'd be a Malfoy wherever we went, and I'd be the Boy Who Ran.  Leaving would be wicked, Draco.  It'd be the worst thing I could do."  

"Some people would say it was wicked to change sides for the sake of love, or for the sake of whom you love," replied Draco, dully.

"You had a side that was picked for you, Draco.  Your parents changed their allegiance when their love for you was stronger than their lust for whatever Voldemort was offering.  In either case, I think it's what you chose to do that matters."

"That's sentimental twaddle, Harry.  My parents were pissed off about being betrayed and decided to do some betraying themselves.  It's just like them to throw enough chaos into the mix that even from death they're still meddling in my life.  If things had been a little different, that would have been me on the field today delivering an ultimatum."

"And that would have been you getting your arse dragon-fried, so don't go thinking that your switching sides turns the tide of the war.  Just quit wringing your hands and brooding," said Harry, leaning in and speaking with a ferocity that surprised them both.  "Look, I want you here, the Order wants you here, and your own father, for whatever reasons, sent you here.  No one else can give you any clearer sign.  Make up your mind however you need, but I'm staying."  Harry cleaned himself with _Purafacicum and took a deep breath..  "If you do go, I expect you to tell me," he said.  Not looking back, he returned to the tent._

Draco felt the doors of his life close around him.  He had not looked for personal attachments.  Harry was supposed to be frivolous diversion—but early on things had gone less than well for that plan.  Harry challenged him, angered him, and contradicted him.  Even after the physical hunger for each other abated briefly—and it abated only ever briefly—he could still talk to Potter, of all people.  Harry Potter, the champion of Mudbloods, of impure magic and poor associations.  Harry Potter, of the perfect green eyes and the horrible imperfect hair; he wouldn't squash a butterfly but could dispatch a basilisk.    The gentle, lovely and cursed Harry Potter would certainly be the cause of Draco's undoing, in this war for which there was no hope, neither under earth nor under heaven.  Draco saw ignominy waiting for him at every turn and curve. _Goddamn you to the lowest hells Harry James Potter, you and your Muggle-hugging friends, he fumed as he returned to the tent.  __Wicked, am I?  You have no concept of wicked._

As the day wore on, one horror was replaced by another.  With a cancerous sense of dread, Draco kept imaging Harry choking out his last breath, mouth and throat filled with blood, dying as the first boy had.  As he cast spell after spell under the assistance of the Mediwitches, every screaming mouth became Harry's; every dying breath accused him.

Finally, he could bear no more charity to the ill and slipped out.  

Draco sat there in the middle of the field as blood dried on his hands.  He sat quite still and entirely alone as no one came looking for him.  The rage of his impotence in the face of scudding, shifting conditions began to drain away, as the resonance of his earlier escape plan re-formed.  Like the glowing tendrils of light from his mother's See-All he had so recently witnessed, letters shaped themselves in his wind.  An old song, bits of verse, and the prologue to the spell he had used to make the Battle Lance clouded his mind.  What if mythology wasn't myth?  What if, indeed? His nebulous thoughts were disrupted when he noticed Lady Tae watching him intently as she crossed the Quidditch Pitch, laptops in tow.  

The sky opened and dazzling light flashed as three blood red dragons soared overhead, their clarion cry echoing from the castle walls.  _ Draco's thoughts went from __Fucking terrifying as they circled overhead, coming ever lower, to__ Magnificent!  I want one._

All thought of such reptilian splendor was lost as the reptiles touched down.  In the air they might be the Wind Gods personified, but they lacked much to be desired as land animals.  On contact with the earth they pitched forward, digging their hind claws into the ground and sending the riders careening.  It was obvious only long years of practice kept them seated.

The riders were dressed in tan leggings and swathed in robes, which they cast aside as they undid their facial coverings.  The trio walked toward the tents, while the man in the lead strode directly for Draco, who rose and met him.

"I know you," said Charlie Weasley, extending his hand.

"And I you, at least by reputation," replied Draco taking the hand and releasing it quickly.  God.  How many more Weasleys would he have to endure?

"Show me to Dumbledore.  We've come to sign up," said Charlie.

"Grand.  We're in the midst of a catastrophe, as you might have guessed, with your  snappy Weasley acumen."

"Draco…Draco," Charlie said warmly as he wrapped a large arm around Draco's shoulder.  "I've heard lots about you.  We're going to be chums, but I have to warn you," he said as he suddenly grabbed Draco's shoulders and lifted him off the ground.  "I'm not my brothers.  A lifetime of working with vicious man-eating flame-spouting reptiles has taken off a lot of the jolly edge, so remember that, there's a good man."

Then he plopped Draco back on the ground and smiled.

"Fine!" huffed Draco, as he shoved Charlie aside and stormed off to Dumbledore's tent.  Charlie followed the infuriated Pureblood, still smiling wryly.  

By late afternoon, the weary Order of the Phoenix had reconvened. The wizards of Hogwarts were powerful, but so many injured overwhelmed their resources.  The deaths around them served to underscore to the staff their general inability to cope with the outcome of a war.  

 The Great Room was cast in shadow, as if no one cared enough to bring light into the severity of the cumulative mood.  As Dumbledore crossed the threshold of the chamber, he cast a quiet _lumos and brought illumination with him._

By now, Harry had exchanged his blood-soaked garments for fresh robes.  He eyed Draco, was leaning heavily against a wall and fussing at a large splash of blood that remained visible against the gray of his cloak.  "It must be Squib blood," said Draco.  "It's entirely oblivious to magic."

"You might have to have it laundered."

"I might commit suicide first."

"Why bother?  Apparently you've got enough remaining family to do it for you," said Harry, brushing past Draco, who gaped internally.  _Unusually sharp.__  I think that almost hurt, he reflected._

After wearily taking their seats, they turned their attention to Dumbledore.

 "Poppy, please report on today's events," he began.

"Out of two hundred thirty total persons received from Durmstrang, fifty-nine have perished.  Another ten remain in grave condition with poor prognosis. Sixteen are guarded.  We have tentatively identified twelve students among the dead, ten instructors, and thirty-seven Dragoons of Durmstrang militia.  The Dragoon's leader, Elena, is among the survivors, by a whisker.

She paused a moment while gathering her voice, then continued.  "Much of the injuries we saw today were magically inflicted and designed to be impervious to healing." 

As she sat, Dumbledore got to his feet and addressed the room.  

"Members of the Order of the Phoenix, it is apparent that we cannot engage in protracted conflict.  We must bring a decisive end to the War.  After today that goes without saying.  However, I have additional news.  This afternoon, Platform 9 and Three-Quarters was attacked.  It was attacked on our side of things, so the non-magical world remains largely unaware of the damage at this time.  Nonetheless, the Hogwarts Express barely escaped.  Five Aurors died safeguarding the train's departure.  Due to the nature of the ongoing threat, the Express is following a more circuitous route than usual."

"What was so valuable aboard?  Why didn't the passengers TransApparate?" asked Lupin.

"The passengers are safeguarding items from the remains of the Ministry that cannot be easily TransApparated, due to a number of binding spells.  Also, at the time of their departure from the platform, we were unable to TransApparate due to the, ah, equipment issue," replied Dumbledore. 

"Which, I might hope, is solved?" said Snape, acidly.

"It's reasonably fixed.  I have a few technical bugs to work out over the next few days," replied Tae, unruffled.

Abruptly, Draco stood.  "We have to go to the Manor," he said.  "There are items there that will prove useful."

"Yes," replied Dumbledore.  "With the information you have provided us, a team of Aurors will go tomorrow and—"

"No, Headmaster.  No Aurors and not tomorrow; we go right now," replied Draco, an unfamiliar urgency in his voice.  

"Do you know what we're looking for?" asked Professor Sinistra.  

"And who exactly, is _we supposed to include?" asked McGonagall._

"_We means me.  And when I see it, I'll know.  Mr. Weasley, did you make any maps of the Manor after the attack?"_

****

Appearing a bit startled, Arthur replied hesitantly.  "Yes, I have several maps here."

"Lay them out, please."

Arthur glanced to Dumbledore for approval.  Then he fumbled through stacks of magical vellum until the maps he sought danced into view.  

Draco walked around the table and stood behind him.  "Project this map," he said, tapping one map that was skirting a little jig in front of Arthur.

The map's image appeared in the air over the center of the grey marble table.  "My father didn't allow the House Apparation charm to collapse all at once.  That would have made for lax tactics, and my father was never lax.  He would have put 'cuts' in the spell in certain locations to control how the Death Eaters got into the Manor.  The cuts would allow the overall charm to give way only in those areas, while other areas would maintain their own, independent Apparation spells.  I believe my father's diaries are hidden in an area that maintained its own Apparation spell.  They'll help you to decode the information in the See-All."

"That's not logical, Draco," said Lupin.  "What about that heap of—well, things, that your father had sent here the night he died?  Why didn't he just hide the codes there?  Besides, it seemed as if your mother and your father expected that you could decode the See-Alls without any assistance."

"That may be what they thought, but I can tell you, it's not happening.  I have to have some idea as to how I'm supposed to do that.  Nothing in my experience tells me what to do with those See-Alls beyond what I've already done," replied Draco.  "As for the junk he sent, I imagine that's all it is.  Trivial garbage probably sent as a ruse to draw off any Death Eaters who might survive the trap at the Manor."

"What?" interjected Professor Vector.

"Can we just get on with it!" exclaimed Draco crankily.

"Explain further, Draco," said Dumbledore.

"It's simple.  Lord Voldemort and many higher-ranking Death Eaters have a very good idea about the contents of the Manor.  By displacing certain objects, it gives the appearance that at least some of those items might be potentially valuable, maybe even the Crown itself, in disguise."

"Suspicious by virtue of absence," mused Dumbledore.  "But you say the inverse is true.  The valuables are potentially still there."

"Yes."

"Then undoubtedly you should go, with a team of Aurors to accompany you," replied Dumbledore serenely.

Draco started to object when Harry's hand clamped firmly on his shoulder.  "We're going to step out for just a moment, with your permission, Headmaster?"

"Five minutes, Harry," said Dumbledore, as Elise leaned over and began whispering in his ear.

As the door clanked shut behind them, Draco rounded on Harry only to find Harry's finger pointed straight in his face.

"You will accept the Aurors going, and you will accept me going, or you won't go," said Harry, in a voice of granite determination.

"Try to stop me," replied Draco, as he folded his arms over his chest.  

"I don't have to.  Dumbledore will.  You know he can and you know there isn't time to argue."

"For the love of God, Harry, why are you always opposing me?"

"I don't know, but it comes naturally nowadays.  Now quite being a prat and get back in there."

They stepped back into the Great Room.

"Aurors.  Fine," said Draco.  "Let's get on with it."  

Harry coughed in the background.  

Draco looked around and replied through clenched teeth, "There is a small proviso that Potter accompanies me.  I didn't say it was a wise proviso; please feel free to deny it."

Dumbledore looked somewhat dubious, but a strange look from Elise seemed to give him an idea.  "Not at all, Draco."

"_Lovely," he thought, but aloud he said only, "The Aurors can't enter the Manor.  There really is no telling what curse could be set off by armed Aurors clomping around."_

Dumbledore inclined his head.  "Very well.  It will be in your hands." He turned to McGonagall and asked, "Is Coventry Tor evacuated?"

"Yes, Headmaster, all staff and the remaining members of the Ministry are bound for Hogwarts," she replied.

"Divert one battle group to the grounds of Malfoy Manor.  They are to stay one hundred meters from the Manor itself."

"Yes, Headmaster..  They can be in place in thirty minutes," she said, looking over the sheath of papers in her hand.

"Unless there is any further discussion, this meeting is adjourned.  Harry, Draco, make ready for departure."

Thirty minutes became two hours as relaying information to the Aurors in transit proved more difficult than anticipated.  Draco was nearly incandescent with trapped energy; Harry was frazzled simply being near him.  Finally, at sunset the call came to TransApparate.  Standing in front of Tae and the recovered Sephone, Draco and Harry stepped out of Hogwarts and into the swirling void of TransApparation.  With the outlines of a devious plan glowing brightly in his mind, Draco Malfoy found himself at last going home.

_End Chapter 6_

**_Thanks to Beth for co-writing!_**


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